


White and Dark chocolate Play Cupid

by Kaiwi



Series: The Pilot and The Dominatrix [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angela Ziegler is a repressed pervert, BDSM, Character Death, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, MVP Ana Amari, Multi, Original Character(s), Party, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiwi/pseuds/Kaiwi
Summary: Doctor Ziegler has found happiness in the arms of another, a dominatrix. Lena is bored but content her friend is happy, blissfully naive."A welsh corgi on steroids."Fareeha plays matchmaker. With two vastly contrasting personalities, an unlikely pairing.What will come of it? Friendship, romance? Or pure unadulterated hatredDaredevil, Ace pilot meets Withdrawn, calculating owner of BDSM establishment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short chapter, opening with the secondary pair of this story.
> 
> I normally write twice this length but with similar detail it is draining. I'd like to focus on Quality over Quantity. This amount is comfortable, don't feel tired and can plan for a better organised plot.
> 
> Next chapter may be longer. Just trialling the idea, let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, my first Overwatch fic!

Angela stared off to the side, Lena's words echoed around in her skull—Now really wasn't the time to be concerned over. But years of experience as a medical professional compelled her to worry, especially those whom she cared for on a personal level. _"Aww…I'm so bored, and I don't wanna third wheel again!"_

_SLAP!_

A sharp stinging sensation over the rear, right cheek. Eliciting a quiet yelp from, biting down on the red ball gag. "Ahh!" Angela attempted to cover the area, it slipped her mind that just minutes ago, Fareeha, at an intimidating height of 5' 11", milk chocolate skin, almond shaped and deep chestnut eyes wrapped both wrists and ankles respectively in silk ribbons in a hog tie fashion. The movement awkward, harmless but not unnoticed.

Pressure between her thighs intensified, smooth and warm. A knee. It pressed against her crotch teasingly, straying with weight. Gentle tuts hovered behind the doctor's neck, lecturing. It just wasn't doing it for her tonight. Ordinarily her body would be on fire, burning with passion and desire. For the Egyptian to take her then and there, aching and pleading until near a sobbing mess, willing to submit her entire being to the will of what she deemed as the second coming of Cleopatra.

Again, it did not go unnoticed. The pressure lifted from between her legs, warm hands glided over the shapely near milk white rear. She was swiss after all, easy to bruise and mark. As Fareeha put it, intoxicating. To have possession over such _fine_ merchandise, to have it quiver under her touch, tremble in delight at her ministration, delightful accent only accentuated as it purred with pleasure.

"What is wrong, my love?" Voice gentle, caring unlike moments ago. Any hint of cruelty and domineering condescension absent. If facial expressions could be heard, certainly the crease in her forehead, evident.

"Gnofing—Uuhm." The muffled speech summoned forth a light snicker. It had slipped her mind, the gag. Of course. As the ball was plucked free, trace amount of saliva lingered, draping over her lips like silk thin strands. Glistening under the moonlight. "Nothing…Just concerned about our—" Angela cut herself off, aqua orbs darted to the side to confirm. It was difficult not to like the spiffy brit, but in her life time there were always a fair share of oddities out there. Their gaze met, a shiver of arousal traversed down her spine.

Sensing this, quick to act, a trace digit, a thumb perhaps lingered around the cleft. Lengthy lashes fluttered, widening in response. Fareeha couldn't resist, biting down on her lower lip gently. _Irresistible_. The look she offered, quizzical however.

"Our f..friend, Lena." Angela finished, voice unsteady as if supported by a foundation of twigs. A wave of relief washed over as the egyptian's expression softened, a gentle fondness in her eyes.

"Lena, yes. The young and energetic one? Like a welsh corgi on steroids"

Angela nodded, the side of her skull pressed into the sheets still. "Mhm—What?"

"Lovely girl, amazing body shape. She would be popular at work—Whoa!" Fareeha recoiled as an elbow jutted upward into the air harmlessly, the unpleasant reminder of naught a week ago enough to trigger an innate reaction. The bruise evident still. Grateful for her choice of words, having underplayed the plucky girl's popularity, rivalling even her own. "Angela, please. I didn't mean anything by it."

A sharp glare silenced anything further from the dark-skinned dominatrix. Chest bubbling with envy, a silly notion. Over a friend nonetheless, whom deserved a similar level of pampering, if not better. Lena had been by her side through the darkest of days, medical school. Every step of the way, the cheerful demeanour uplifted her. Of course, they had pursued another career, something far more daredevil and thrilling, with a need for speed. An air force pilot.

"Yes, Lena. I was there, that look in your eyes. It was the same when we met." Tone, curt and sharp. Like a scalpel. Ohh, she could handle one of those. Far better than any dominatrix out there.

Fareeha's expression lightened, both hands lifted into the air and waving quickly, frantic even. "I..It was a moment of weakness, I swear. Y…You are the only woman for…." She trailed off, realising how silly, but her point still needed to be made. Cooing gently, daring to lean close for a peck on the cheek. "You are the only woman I could truly love."

A decent save. The corner of her only visible eye softened, "You got lucky, Amari." It seemed for the next check-up, the scalpel and a lengthy needle were unnecessary yet.

"So, what has you so distracted, Angela?" Inquiring curiously as she ran her tongue up the side of her cheek, the tip finishing at the tall cheekbone.

"Lena…She's a sweetie but…I can't believe I'm saying this, you must not confide the fact I leaked this to you."

The Egyptian retreated, raising a hand, middle finger crossed over index. "Fingers crossed."

"I think…Well no, she's lonely as of late. Ever since we started, ermm…"

To the rescue, and the endeavour of brownie points. "Dating." Fareeha purred, a delicious shudder visible as the Swiss woman flushed a shade darker under the silver light.

"Yes." It was the best she could muster without the risk of embarrassing herself further. "Lena, has sacrificed a lot. For my sake, with her career as a fighter pilot and…mine. She's never had a lot of time to date." Angela sucked in a deep breath, continuing a little faster than she liked, "She feels awkward being around us, third wheeling as she puts it."

Fareeha squirmed from above, an unsettled wince decorated her expression. Daring to press on, a hesitant tone, a hint of dread in the exotic voice, "So, what does this mean for us..?"

Angela's only visible brow perked upward, "Huh? Nothing-! Oh, you miss understand my dear, Fareeha!" Squirming and wriggling from underneath, shoulders twisting back and forth, fighting to turn around to face. A gentle hand grasped her waist, another the other side. With surprising ease, the dominatrix hoisted the woman onto her knees, the restraints left her reliant on the broad shoulders to keep upright. "Thank you."

Looping an arm through, Fareeha cupped a pillowy breast, idly massaging It with a gentle smirk. Relief, burying her nose into base of the Swiss woman's neck, sweet vanilla. "You frightened me, doctor. I thought your kind was trained to be reassuring."

A tiny giggle escaped, right shoulder hunching upward, an ear rested gently atop. The sharp nose brushed her neck, gentle puffs of air tickling and eliciting gentle goosebumps. "Oh stop, you're being dramatic."

The moist muscle lapped at the gentle bumps on the sweet flesh, "Mmn…"

Swift to return to the topic at hand, Angela pressed on. "I was wondering…Do you have any friends that we could set her up with? At the very least, so she doesn't feel like a third wheel when we hang out?"

Fareeha unperturbed, continued at her own pace silently. The doctor was unable to make light of her expression, the angle of her features too sharp to make out as they continued to suckle, lap and nuzzle.

"Fareeha..?"

"Mmn…Thinking." The response curt, almost displeased. She felt a brow furrow against the upper area of her neck.

"Do you—"

"Thinking." Sharp. Displeased.

Angela sat against the dominatrix, the occasional tremble brought on by a wave of heat, pleasure or genuine ticklish sensation. Heat wallowed in her crotch, dripping on the sheets underneath. But she refused to give in, until an answer given.

A single digit traced her belly button and off to the side, down the curve of her tummy, lingering mere inches above the oozing folds, drawing incongruent shapes and circles with the nail.

"Don't you dare…" Angela warned, serving only to egg the woman further, inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre. "Fareeha..!" The digit paused. Breathing laboured, strained almost as she fought the urge to surrender. "An answer, plea—Grmphmhnm!" The gag silenced her, wriggling indignantly against. All the while, muffling into the newly secured accessory.

"I thought we agreed, no talk of work in the bedroom." Fareeha hinted, lifting from her shoulder perch and peppered the side of the Swiss doctor's cheek.

"Wheehn whee whaawk!?"

The dominatrix retreated, Angela fell backwards, head bouncing in the soft queen-sized mattress underneath. Forced to stare upward, at the hooded gaze from above. A certain spark of mischief in their eyes, "Your mouth is certainly active tonight, perhaps I should put it to a livelier activity.

A sweet scent tickled her nostrils, flaring them gently. It made her mouth water. It contrasted her furrowed brows and large pout. A shapely leg swung over, the source drawing closer. A hand darted past her neck, expertly unclasping the red ball in between her teeth. "Fareeha! What giv—MMNNPHHNM!"

A content sigh. Powerful thighs wrapped around the blonde's head, feet tucked behind their skull, their legs kicking in the air irate. Setting her hands to rest against the breasts earlier, massaging idly. "If you bite, I'll haul your ass out into the hallway, naked." She cautioned, "I may even drop by your work. Unannounced." That threat while not completely idle, did hold enough weight to settle the woman a little. A warm muscle tickled her folds. Reluctant.

Fareeha's eyes narrowed, it would seem they couldn't wait till her needs were satisfied. At least without some form of compensation, "I'll base my decision on how well you perform, Mercy." The nickname jolted the woman underneath, a pet name from her colleagues at work. Yes, she had visited on their days off. Discreetly. Cautioning gently, "Ahh..Ahh..ahh~" The long, smooth if not flawless legs dropped, propped up by their cute feet. Leaned forward, resting her chin on top of, angling her own feet against the back of Angela's skull, urging her deeper. The reluctant tongue sped up eagerly, shivers of delight wracked throughout. God forbid this woman was skilled.

The encouragement, an empty one. She already had a person in mind. A woman she had once considered an enemy turned friend, turned boss. Through a series of unfortunate events, they became acquainted, envy to sympathy. Whilst not particularly close, she was a trusted confidant, stalwart and admittedly, in stunning shape. Withdrawn, cold and calculating ever since. Barely a shell of their former self yet it only served to accentuate their beauty, their allure and reputation to boot. Having fantasized more than once but knew full well they were an ill-suited match for each other.

Fareeha wasn't the type to Switch, except for the rare occasion. And as far as she knew, that woman had yet to submit to anyone in their life. Perfectly measured. Always in control. A seductress without equal yet nonsensically alone. For nearly two years.

Partially fuelled by curiosity and genuine concern for both Angela's friend and her. Perhaps a parallel could revive them or at the very least, provide a distraction, another patient. A pleasant one. And entertainment for Angela and herself. She imagined the pairing now in her pleasure drunk state, shuddering violently, edging closer.

The perky brit and arguably Machiavellian French. How ridiculous, how amusing!

Ace pilot, daredevil, Lena Oxton and….

_Owner of Talon Dungeons, Mistress, Amélie Lacroix._

Bliss. They earned it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon. She will come soon.
> 
> Also, please let me know if I've nailed down Tracer's speech pattern. She's difficult. 
> 
> Can't track down a list of slang she would ordinarily use as a British Londoner. I only know Australian

Lena skipped along the well-lit pavement, humming audibly in her Wedgwood blue, blue-grey royal air force uniform untucked into the alike trousers. An unlikely sight for a military girl to be lax with protocol and presentation but she had always been an oddball even amongst her peers. Though did little to impact their relations, the fast-paced, speedy and energetic woman carried herself with a lovable, cheerful demeanour and skill to boot.

Any doubts dismissed from a presentation of skills in the cockpit, performing daredevil manoeuvres akin to a stunt pilot whilst maintaining discipline, an incredible resistance to g-forces, a well-respected flight instructor once commented the notion that she may have a screw loose. Many of her foes, rivals won over by a short conversation with. The dedication she displayed, second to none. To both craft and friend.

Especially the latter, word spread like wildfire when the esteemed Angela Ziegler dropped by the base, with special permission granted, having offered a free medical examination to all the boys and girls in the Royal Air Force. As thanks for their continued support of her dear friend, Lena.

Popular, fun and cheerful. Three adjectives that danced around her existence, everyone always claimed when asked. “The Welsh Corgi of the Air Force.” They nicknamed fondly. Although to her chagrin.

The pilot, particularly excited today. Her best friend, Angela prepared a night out for them. A ‘girls’ night only, as they had fondly elaborated on the phone. Although a lingering doubt gnawed at, the new woman, Fareeha was likely to be there.

Lena whilst fond of her, did find it difficult to enjoy herself with Angela at times as the two were often absorbed in their relationship. Of course, it brought great delight to see her friend often clouded by misery in the past, smiling and full of laughter around the Egyptian. They made a lovely couple. Damn, a sight to behold that woman. Lean, looming and luscious. It did at times even stir feelings of slight jealousy, for she was alone to this day. Ever since University.

Her career didn’t offer much time for relationships, what not with Angela’s occasional bouts of depression in the past.

The pilot possessed little doubt they were going to have a night to remember. And if need be, she would steer the night in that direction herself.

Pausing in front of a cobblestone apartment, squeezed between the other similar living arrangements. Lena bound up the steps, two at a time, ripping the entrance open and sprinted up with an eagerness difficult to match for a human. Shouting, anger, disbelief slowed her pace.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! I SAID A FRIEND, NOT A COLLEAGUE!” The swiss accent rich, vibrant when flared with emotion.

An equally rich accented voice returned, gentler, almost apologetic. Difficult to make out until the young brit drew closer, “…I said it already, she is a friend! Like, I know her decently—” Whatever to come, drowned out by the outraged cry.

“DECENTLY? DECENTLY? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!? SHE’S YOUR--, DAMN IT. LENA ISN’T LIKE ME.”

That perked her interest, she pressed her ear against the wall, creeping closer. Step by step, inch by inch—

“SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOUR OCCUPATION IS..YOU…YOU SLYNA. I SWEAR--”

_Squeeeerrreaaakk!_

She winced, the floorboard. Every time. Foiled again.

The voices fell quiet. Lena didn’t even need to see to tell their gazes smouldered through the wall at, Angela’s jaw by now likely to be parted, half way through sucking in oxygen to yell. At a different woman.

“LE—”

The perky woman kicked the door open, arms spread out, grin from ear to ear, eyes shut. “I’m heereee!”

No response.

She peeked out of an eye, Angela. Work uniform, doctor’s coat and stethoscope. Close, too close. Looming over. Nostrils flaring, cheeks bright pink delicate fingers balled into fists. She could feel the exhaled air tickling her spiky locks. Fareeha, brows shot up, rooted to the spot. Blinking rapidly, more curious than annoyed or frightened.

“How much did you hear?” The tone sharp, volume, hardly a whisper. Threat level. Substantial. Response? Scramble!

Lena sidestepped to the side with an unnatural speed, Angela’s head couldn’t keep up, eyes drawn to anything for a distraction. Lamp, coffee table, coffee table with chocolates, newspaper. Chocolate? “Ooh! Chocolate, can I have…Whoa, Angie. Calm down! Nnmnfnmgrmnn.. Gooh uufff!” Ducking away from, grasping a handful and crammed it into her maw. Shooting Fareeha a beam. Sable Tank top and sky jeans. Casual but neat.

At it again, the two played tiggy for a short while, the gorgeous darker skinned woman observed with great hilarity. Every round past the coffee table, the rectangular box became lighter. Lena’s cheeks swelling further. Like a hamster’s cheek pouches, bulging. With immense effort, she looped an arm out as the spunky brit passed, catching the normally angelic woman whilst fighting the urge to clutch her tummy from laughter. They flailed, indignantly. Stomping at her feet to escape, barely remaining step ahead.

Lena flopped against the polyester couch, content. Upturned gaze, working through the chocolate idly. Swallowing with a massive mouthful, the bulge evident as it slid down. Unnatural! “Whats got her knickers in a twist, love?” Spread eagle as if at home. Not far from the truth as she visited frequently in the past.

Fareeha, quick to act, covered the doctor’s mouth to answer. “She’s upset at MY decision to whom will join us toni—OW!” The hand darted away, shaking. They were bit. “Angela!”

An elbow followed, the force of the blow, audible. It lifted Fareeha off the floor before crumpling to the floor. Lena dropped the chocolate resting between forefinger and thumb, mouth parted into a tiny O. Gulp.

She whirled onto her, stalking over. Arms and legs spread wide, forming a miniature net to prevent the zippy girl from escaping. Leaping onto her from above, Lena curled into the couch and faux cowered as they received a noogie.

The duo wrestled for a minute before bursting into giggles, Fareeha recovered slowly. Wheezing gently, climbing back onto her feet with the aid of the mantle against the milk coloured wall. “W..Why does she get off…Easy?”

Angela embraced Lena protectively, resting pointed chin on their head, whilst they equipped their aviator sunnies in time. Pouting, “She’s a puppy compared to you.” The momentary lapse in memory faded. “AND, she didn’t renegotiate on our deal.”

That elicited another wince, words could hurt.

“Like…I..Ohjesusmyribs.” The Egyptian collapsed back onto a knee, falling onto their side with a loud groan. “Like..I said…she is a friend..!”

The remark made no sense on paper, but clear as daylight for the observer, “You might not want to tell your friends about that.”

Fareeha’s gaze had averted away, slowly they rolled back down to meet Angela’s. A faint smirk on their lips, returned with a flash of a dark expression. Difficult to tell if her eyes were playing tricks, Lena noted. It screamed, payback.

“Whassat?” Lena chirped in, peering through her brown locks up at. She felt Angela stiffen, shifting against.

“Uhmm…You remember how you told me…About being lonely?”

Her face paled, “Angela! That was supposed to be a secret. Between you and me!” The spunky girl shrivelled further into, a rare pout formed on her lips. A gasp escaped off to the side, she felt the woman on top shift, chin dragging off towards the noise.

“What! She’s so damn cute.”

“I’ll deal with you later.” The doctor tutted, accent fading as her anger from earlier subsided. Too difficult to maintain in front of pleasant company. “Well…Miss **Amari **here, found you someone to accompany us. Tonight.” A certain spice to the end of the voice indicated their displeasure.

“Oh? You make it sound I won’t like them.”

“Well…”

“I heard you in the…Oww. Oww! Not muh cheeks!” Lena slapped gently with her fingers at the pinching digits. Deepening the facial expression earlier. Crossing her arms like a child would at their mother for not buying a toy.

Angela huffed, shaking her head as she released the grip around the impossible smooth cheek. “Yes, we should fix that nasty habit of yours.”

“I don’t wanna!”

Fareeha interjected, “I personally think, they would make a gorgeous couple….” Trailing off into a grumble as Angela shot her a withering glare, again. Outside of the bedroom she was out of depth against the doctor. But not one to backdown, she added quietly. “You haven’t even met her yet…”

“Wot’s she like?” Lena’s posh accent chipped in, glancing between the two. Fishing for answers.

Angela shrugged, gaze averted to the side, releasing half her grip to scratch her temple. Perhaps a tad hasty. “I..I don’t know, I don’t know many of Fareeha’s frie…Colleagues yet.”

Lena’s brow quirked dramatically, leaning up into the air. “Colleague? Oh yeah…I never asked, what line of work are ya in, Faree?”

The couple exchanged glances, Lena didn’t allow it to go unnoticed. “I saw that!” Indignant.

Peeling herself from the cool hardwood, the Egyptian scratched the back of her head, eyes averted to the side. “I think it would be easier to show you…”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The rather remarkable trio stood in front of the establishment, the street traffic, immense. Swiss and Egyptian, arms around each other’s waist. One rested gently, the other pressing firmly just above against the quickly discolouring flesh underneath. Lena, in front, fists resting on her waist, aviator sunglasses equipped as she stared up at the classy establishment.

Like your typical cocky air force pilot, ready to conquer a challenge before them.

Ritzy street decorated by fairy lights and sturdy lamp posts. Exuding wealth and a hint of lavender teased the senses. Floors paved with irregular medieval black stone, posing light risk to the unaccustomed. The adult crowd bustled with an excitement, the out of place stylish refurbished warehouse in the midst acting as a junction.

“Please…Have mercy.” Fareeha whimpered. “I..I can’t have bruises at work…Nnnghh!!” That backfired.

Angela sharp as a scalpel, “Hat jemand den Arzt gerufen?” Rather enjoying the power she held over her sweetheart.

“This place is ace!” Calling out over her shoulder, “But the line’s way too long! We’ll be out here forever!”

The suave Egyptian hobbled over, prying away from Angela to compose herself. “Not to worry, allow me.” Practically sauntering over to the hulking gentleman in front, they exchanged a few pleasantries and a conversation followed. Turning back to gesture towards them, less than a minute passed before they hobbled back. A broad grin on her cheeks, “You’re in, hotshot.”

Leaping in the air, punching the air. “Awww right! You’re the best, Fareehuh?” Lena frowned, spiky brown hair bobbing as she whirled around to stare at the duo rooted in place. “Aren’tcha coming along?”

“Oh no, we’re just here to pick up my friend. That’s your job, we’re supposed to head off to a more….Casual place.” Fareeha elaborated behind the mischievous grin, gesturing to her dresswear.

It struck the plucky brit then, they were far too underdressed. “S…So it’s s’okay for me to enter like this?”

Angela grumbled and punched her partner in the tummy again, as they nodded. “You’re just going in to fetch them, ask the barkeep for Amelie, Amelie Lacroix.”

The pilot shrugged and offered a two fingered salute, a cheesy grin across her face. Spinning on a heel, 540 degrees, “Lima Charlie!” And with that she was off.

They observed as their friend departed, a begrudging silence between them, “….Like a lamb to the slaughter.” Fareeha tinkled, the remark distasteful to the doctor. The fist cocked back, intercepted mid-way. The era of pretend, over. Confidence rushed back into her motion, leaning forward and forcing the woman to curb to her imposing height. The dominatrix dipped her downward, dangerously low, wolf whistles rang out. “Enough is enough, isn’t it about time you showed me some _Mercy?_”

Aaaand there, the clinician melted into a flushed mess. “We’re in public….”

The tattoo winked alongside the eye, head tilting to the side. “Mmn. I could claim you right here and now, if you don’t start behaving.” Mischievous chestnuts twinkled underneath the night sky, the glimmer of neon lights only served to highlight the Swiss woman’s fluster, the rosy cheeks contrasted the green and yellow.

“Y..You wouldn’t dare..” She stammered, deep down she knew an element of truth lingered. Hissing, “We promised, to keep it under wraps! For a bit longer at least!”

“Try me, Ziegler. You best start showing some damn respect, otherwise our last stop for the night will be here.” Fareeha leaned in, till her soft lips tickled the lobe. A soft whisper followed.

Mortified, limp.

Leaning back, satisfied with her handiwork, tugged the swiss beauty onto her feet. Releasing, “Whoa, up you go. Nice day for a swing, don’t you think?”

Angela stumbled on the spot, hand darted out, it clutched onto the arm. Grip firm, knuckles whitening. Tempted to envelop the arm for support but withheld the urge, in the pits of her stomach, a carnal pleasure reared its ugly head. Battling for dominance with her otherwise logical mind.

The lady offered a side-long glance, tapping her cheek with a long digit.

Reluctantly, lifting onto her tippy toes to plant a firm kiss.

“Now observe, as I play matchmaker.”

**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit I hope this doesn’t backfire on me. Or that I forget!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the shorter posts.
> 
> Yes, I am sorry. The reason why Widow is absent from this will be explained at the bottom. TLDR: I want it to flow a little more naturally, and have Lena find herself caught in the Spider’s web.
> 
> Without further ado, I present you the third chapter. Enjoy!

Long eyelashes fluttered, crusted by sleep. The stench of dried sweetened alcohol, a hint of raspberry. It tickled her nose, sniffing with an audible groan. Raising an arm, resistance. She wiggled it out from underneath, a blanket. The sleeve of her uniform rested over, head pounding. Repeatedly, like someone beating a drum.

“Where…Am I?” The chippy woman questioned nobody, voice groggy and hoarse. The room dim, a faint beam of sunlight pierced through and bounced off the glass, rounded ends of the coffee table to the side. Neat stacks of paper by the feet side. The couch she laid upon, fine leather. Comfy. Luxurious by her standards. “Uooogghh…” She forced herself up, supporting herself with a single arm, rubbing her eyes with the other.

Her blurry vision cleared, this was not her apartment. An internal siren rang, she felt her sweat glands work, eyes darting about. First to her limbs, all intact. Nothing bounded her, okay, not exactly a kidnapping. Or a poorly initiated one.

Marbled tiles, a grand piano sat across the other side of the room, classic French doors lined the sides of the instrument’s seat. a curved stairway behind where Lena sat. Leading to another floor, supported by thick marble pillars. The ceiling painted a whipped cream white, contrasting the sides deeper colour. Further behind, more couches, sat another entranceway to the garden, the source of the gentle beam of sunlight. Tucked to the side, a few metres behind, a fireplace to the side with a magnificent Persian sangria rug.

“Blimey…”

She swung her legs over the side, bare feet. Recoiling at the cool flooring, her socks disappeared. Wiping the sleep with lithe fingers, shaking herself awake. “I’m not dreaming am I?” The place. Ace.

Her clothes intact, she fumbled around, wallet, check, phone, check—Phone! She plucked it out, nearly dropping it in the process. Tapping the screen, battery, 23%. Six missed messages and twelve missed calls, 9:48AM. Wait, HUH?

“Oh bloody hell! I’m late! All the guys will be giving me tripe!” Leaping onto her feet, wincing at her instability. Rude. Lena came to a halt, she should leave a message. Whomever kind enough to allow her to stay the night at such a beautiful place deserved that at the very least. Locking onto the stacks of paper, she grasped the top sheet and flipped it over, grasping the fountain pen—Fountain pen!?

Messy. “Thanks for allowing me to stay, I owe you one! L. Oxton~” The writing elicited a wince, like a kindergartner had performed it. She added her phone number, at the end with another note. “Let me know if I owe you anything, work calls. Sorry!”

With that, she bolted away.

Or tried to, she got lost. A couple of times.

…

“How long has Oxton been at it?” A gruff voice called out towards the duo sat in the grass, propped up by a single arm, snacking on jerky. Sturdily built, v-shaped, asian. Light stubble tickled their way down to the top of his neck.

The nearest turned over, a small smile greeted his clean-cut features. A buzzcut and pointed nose, “Yo, Adam. Two hours now, I’m surprised.”

The furthest added, “Yeah, she’s tiring out quicker than normal.” He was less well kempt but slick haircut and piercing sapphire eyes. Charlie. “Our little corgi’s having a bad day. Hahaha!”

Adam’s brows shot up, two hours and tiring? That was odd. “Don’t be rubbish mate, Lena’s not the type…” He trailed off, the girl ragged as she trudged along the track. Her jaw parted, heaving as her perfect posture had slumped. Like a horse on its last legs. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

Charlie cackled, clutching his stomach. “Never thought I’d see the day! Flight sergeant gave her a good bollocking. Noah and I have a bet if she’ll step into the cockpit today. I’m for she will.”

“Bullshit look at her. She’ll probably pass out at the rate she’s going. Absolutely gutted she is. I should grab her a red bull or something, eh mate?”

That elicited a chuckle among the men, “Still tryin’ to get in her good books eh? Why don’t you just ask her out? Far as we know, she’s single and ready to mingle.”

Noah raised an arm over his head and curved it back, scratching at the back of his skull. His right cheek twinged up to the bottom of his eye, they were flushing. “Sod off, Charlie’s a hypocrite, we all know you had the biggest on day one, mate.”

He waved dismissively, “Bah, that was until I found about the other bird, Angela. Blimey she has a body, that one. A right nice rear, she has!” He plucked a piece of lamb out and tossed it over.

Adam reflexively caught it as he settled down into the grass beside the closest, still observing the girl rounding the course, stumbling in her trek. “It’s odd for her to be so late. If at all.”

The trio agreed in unison.

“Wonder what she was up to, for someone so chipper, she’s pretty secretive!” Noah added

Charlie glanced up into the grey sky. “Probably hanging out with that Angie chick. They’re real close, she still won’t introduce me.” His tone hinted at his bitterness.

It was justified among the quadruplet of friends, that Charlie was the worst womanizer of the group. They knew to keep their friends away from him, although good-natured. The script often flipped on them, after growing bored, he’d break off, content. The women, however still lusted after. Adam had received the worst of it, still pestered to this day by a trio he had hooked up with.

At that moment, a phone buzzed. A gentle ding! Interrupted the trio’s speculations, they exchanged glances. Motioning with their fingers, _“That yours mate?”_ They all shook their heads.

The first to realise, “Ah right, Lena gave me her phone to charge with my power bank. He tapped the box by his feet, that sparked the trio’s interest. They sat up in unison, Charlie the first to snatch the phone up, peering at its contents.

“You left your sunglasses at my place.” – Amélie, a text message.

They exchanged glances, wolfish smiles taking place. “Anyone know her code?”

“Yeah, it’s 630011”

Charlie made a mental note, “Heh, thanks.” He tapped it in. “Wait, how do you know?”

“She let me borrow her phone, like a month ago. To call me mum.”

The text box winked into place, a new message. The conversation history, fresh.

“Heh heh. Guess that solves the mystery of where she was last night.” He commented, nudging the man to his right in the chest. “Wait….! It’s probably another bird. Amelie.” His brow knitted, deep in thought.

Adam vocalised his doubts, a hint of mirth at his companion’s suffering. “You know, there is always the possibility, our corgi prefers pie over sausage.”

“WHAT! Bloody hell, you guys lost the plot haven’tcha?”

“Have a gander then.” He flipped the phone towards, a reply had been sent. It read, _“Heya, head’s spinning babe, new phone, which Amelie are ya? Mind if I have a picture to refresh my memory?”_ Read. 1:13.

A minute ticked by, “They ain’t replying.” Noah stared back, prominent eyes unimpressed.

As if on cue, a sharp ding rang out. The backdrop, a dark room. Impossible to make out anything apart from the neon light, a seat shape. On top of it, leaning forward, elbow propped up, aviator sunglasses pinched between delicate index and thumb, oval face tapered into a sharp jawline and cheekbones, deep set violet drawn into a ponytail framed with and honey with a hint of amber upturned eyes. Like antique jewellery. He clutched his chest, the man’s breath behind him hitched.

“Holy shit…” Adam murmured. The two, awestruck.

Charlie flipped the communication device back towards and brought the device closer. “She’s a proper goddess…”

A silence befell them. The quiet pants from their companion circling closer, “What…ha…..haa..Whatcha….Wat….er…guys doing?” They fell face first into the dirt, shapely rear in the air slowly but surely flattening from fatigue.

“Wait, I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Seen…ha…Can…Water?”

Noah leapt into action, retrieving his hidden canteen by his waist and rushed down to. Nursing the woman back to life.

“Oi, Noah, what are you talking about you’ve seen her before.” Adam interrogated with a smug smirk, aware of his companion’s preferences. Served him right for not clearing his browser history.

“We should be asking Lena!” He scooted down, phone still in hand as he clasped both of her sweaty cheeks as she flopped over to the front, squeezing them together. Her recently moistened lips glistened as she whined. “Where do you find all these gorgeous birds at eh?”

“For thuh last twime, I’m not introducing yoo to Angie!” Lena flailed indignantly, she came to a pause as the phone came into view. A flicker of recognition.

The trio formed up in front, expectant gazes drilling into. “Well?” They asked in unison.

“I…I dunno! I only met her last night! She’s Angie’s girlfriend’s friend!”

“Angela’s gay?” Charlie spluttered, shoulders drooping.

“Bi, I think. Back then she had a couple of boyfriends.” Lena traced her memory back, voice chipper again as she recovered. “There was that Japanese guy…”

“Right—Well, you have to introduce me to this gorgeous blueberry!” He announced, chest puffed out proudly.

“What—No! I barely know her, probably won’t see her again either.”

Adam’s brow shot up doubtfully, “She has your aviator sunnies, Lena.”

“My sunnies! That’s where they were!” She snatched at her phone, only for it to be yanked away. A devious grin greeted her, the trio exchanged smug glances. Charlie darted away, fingers working overtime as he tapped into her phone.

“NO!” Lena scrambled after, they remained behind, catching each arm and looping around it and restrained her carefully. “Traitors! BLOODY HELL LEMME GO!” They snickered to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might upload another follow up of equal size or shorter. Tonight, unsure!
> 
> Let me know what you think, I had the draft up for Amelie and Lena’s interaction last night but found it to be too forced, not worthy enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a day, woo hoo!
> 
> I'm liking it thus far. 
> 
> Especially the direction I'm taking our favourite chica. 
> 
> Although it is hard to capture the spark between Widow and Tracer at the moment, I might've dug a hole :<

As per usual, the former ballerina sank into her comfy office seat. The aquarium to her right and mass of computer screens to the left providing the only source of light, with a flicker of a finger. The neon sign behind illuminated. Paper cup of coffee in hand, the morning ritual. A later start than ordinary.

She reminisced on the night before, the hammering of the bar. The sea of faces she encountered, ordinary, boring. Only two stood out. The peaches and cream skin of Angela Ziegler and…The hyper energetic and tomboyish, Lena Oxton. Former, a source of constant teasing, ammunition to utilise against her friend. The latter, a…. Hesitant decision, naïve and bordering silly. Plucky.

Their interaction, pleasant but she found it difficult to believe that the woman wouldn’t descend into a maddening source of frustration further. In a group, a source of endless fun. But solo? Solo? Anything but. Even her handwriting, chaotic, childlike.

It lingered within. A residual heat, too wild. Ah…There, the truth.

Raising the plastic tip to her lips, taking a slow draught of the bitter liquid. A knock on her door, twice. Familiar figure posing, leaning against the side of the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Come in.” Her voice soft, like a piece of silk being stretched over a table. The door parted to reveal whom she had anticipated.

Fareeha Amari, thick sunglasses shaded her eyes, shoulders slumped and hair messy. “Ugghh…My head, you don’t expect me to work in this condition…Do you?” Swiping the spectacles from her features to reveal the damage from the night before.

“Absolutely.” The reply, curt. Even a touch cold, the gaze however, electric. “I did warn you.”

They stiffened, straightening a little. “Fine…Fine. Can I have some?” Motioning to the cup, dismay evident as they spun away from.

“Get your own, Pharah.” She addressed her by the alias given, a precaution she suggested if within earshot of customers, co-workers or as a cautionary tale for those who dare cross her.

Their brow curled up, “Is that how it is going to be, Widowmaker? After all I’ve done for you.” They sauntered over, a long-defined arm pressed against the oakwood as they leaned over. “I even offered you a real cutie.”

A soft noise escaped the back of her throat, humour? Perhaps. Their corner of their eyes narrowed, a hint of frisk. Tone lighter than usual, husky. It made the hair on their neck stand up. “I much prefer your woman, Dr. Ziegler.”

That sparked a brief flutter of scepticism. “…” They held eye contact lower lip quivering once. “Back off, she’s mine.” Tone dark, a hint of harshness unlike the Egyptian. “W..What’s wrong with Lena? She’d give Angela a run for her money—” Cutting themselves off before they revealed too much.

“Oh? Then why don’t we trade.” Widowmaker turned back, the cup of coffee landed on the table, fingers interlacing as they peered over.

Like a Cheetah, she pounced. Snatching the cup away and taking a swift sip. VIC…tory?

The French woman continued to observe, measuring, analysing. She knew that look far too well. “Wh—Stop, Amélie. I..I won’t.” They backed off, a single step at first.

“Perhaps I should.”

“NO!” Fareeha slammed the door shut behind, locking it. Their forehead creased with gentle lines, jaw ajar, glancing about. Maybe a wiser decision to flee.

“Yes.”

“P..Please don’t make me.”

“I shall extend an invitation as well. She would enjoy the show greatly.” The tone, distant. Lacking cruelty or humour.

Defeated, Fareeha dropped to her knees. The still half-full cup spilled its contents across the carpet. The mocha skin paling rapidly, queasy looking. “Amélie, please…Th..This isn’t funny. I’m definitely not—”

Relenting, a roll of their eyes as they leaned back. Arms raising above their head and crossing behind to cup underneath the ponytail. The ever-present French accent now hinted at a certain warmth. “Fine…Since you are acting so pathetically, I’ll let Sombra know you’re not available.”

Fareeha let out a sigh of relief, dropping onto all fours with head bowed for a moment. Climbing back onto her feet, she plopped down in the seat across. Wiping her forehead with the back of her sleeve.

“Feeling better? Awake?”

They offered a glum nod.

“A little adrenaline always helps.” The faintest smirk greeted Amélie’s calm expression.

“I still need to get Sombra back for last time—She dared to put ME in a bitchsuit.”

Amélie’s gaze drifted to the computer screens, observing the ever whimsical, smug and cheeky character in question. They were laughing as another staff member had willingly submitted themselves to. Paddling, none too lightly mind you. It was difficult to tell from the angle if he squirmed from pleasure or legitimate agony. “Yes…I remember that night fondly. You made a fine submissive.”

A growl—Like from a wounded greyhound, “Don’t. Delete that from your mind, this instant.”

“Thighs trembling, crotch soaked. Lips, drooling through—”

“ENOUGH!” Fareeha back on her feet, slammed a fist onto the table, shaking it violently. Shoulders heaving, they leaned in threateningly. “One of these days, Amélie. You will be on the receiving end by my hands or hers. And that will be your most mortifying.”

A derisive sneer. “In your wildest dreams. Miss Amari, the two of you couldn’t handle me, even together.”

Her nostrils flared, the retreated. Their features shadowing as they fell back into the seat, a sudden topic change. Their voice, hinting with pride. “So…Lena.”

“What about her?” Their eyes rolled, pivoting away to the right on the seat.

“No? No potential at all?”

“We have only met once. It is too early to judge.” Voice stiffening at the end. It piqued the Egyptian’s interest, a strange occurrence.

“Why?”

The professional dominatrix raised a hand in the dark, skull leaning against the outstretched fingers. “I….I’m not sure myself.”

Stunned. Arms crossing, a frown knitted into their expression. Doubt, an internal debate began. On some levels, succeeding in her task on another, failed. They were sure of themselves in the beginning.

A quiet click could be heard, the trademark accessory slid forward into view on the table. “They left these.”

“Ah. She loves that pair of aviators.” Fareeha remarked, reaching forward to inspect. Cable temples and hinges the wear and tear hinted at the care possessed for the pair, the dimmed lenses still flawless bar the dust gathered overnight.

“I should return them then.” She sighed, a quiet rustle followed, retrieving her phone. “What to send?”

“You have her phone number?”

The golden amber eyes connected with chestnut. “Of course, she left it before leaving.” A puzzled expression followed, shaking her head to dismiss the notion. Elaborating, “She left, I was still asleep.”

“She slept over?”

Velvet lips drew into a thin line. “On my couch, she passed out. No. I did not take advantage of her.” Adding quickly, pausing for a moment before questioning. “Furthermore, how do you know if she even swings towards other women?”

Oops.

“Uhhh…..” Fareeha raised a single digit in the air, pearly teeth stood out in the indistinct darkness. Stumped. “…Just a hunch?”

“….Wow.” Amélie shook her head in disbelief, her fingers tapped into the touchscreen. A quiet boop emanated from the device.

Fareeha scooted closer, “What’d you send?”

“You left my sunglasses at my place. Amélie.”

She spluttered, storming around the lengthy desk and to the other side. “You sent that? You’re not sending an email, it’s a text! You don’t need to be so formal”

“Whatever. It is clear and delivers the point. It isn’t like I am trying to seduce her.”

“Why not?”

“She is….Too energetic, like the energizer bunny. But without an off switch.I fear that if we were to spend time alone, she would be…Annoying.” The delivery, blunt.

Head tilting off to the side, a fair point. “Hmm. If I recall, when we first met, Angela was still cooking. We had a pleasant conversation. Around the time when the other guests arrived, that’s when she—”

“An extrovert.”

_Boop_

A reply came through, Fareeha peered into it, immediately her suspicion sparked. Hesitant to voice it out loud.

An annoyed tsk escaped, “...This girl, such an awful liar. She could barely annunciate my name last night.” It sparked a smile on her companion’s lips. The greatest range of emotions displayed in a single day, before midday too. They leaned in and voiced out pieces,

“New phone….Which….Mind if I have a picture to refresh my memory? Props to her, it is a nice way to ask for a picture of—” Fareeha jabbed a digit into her friend’s smooth cheeks, “yours truly.”

A sharp elbow—Into the hip.

Stumbling to the side, collapsing against the filing cabinet. What was it with people and elbowing her!? She slid down quietly, feigning death for a few seconds. Observing the composed ex-ballerina, raising their phone into the air, pinching the pair of glasses from across the table. A brief flash, _click!_ God be damned, she took a selfie. Even the Talon page, much less the Widowmaker Instagram lacked in selfies. Wait…. were there any?

_All according to plan…_

Minutes passed, Fareeha remained rooted in her new seat. The floor. Still better than working in her condition. The boops and taps of fingernail on screen continued as they exchanged messages.

“For every minute you remain here, could be a minute under Sombra’s heels.” The cool voice disturbed her rest. “Or worse…Mine.”

Fareeha scrambled up to her feet, bowing her head slightly and darted for the door. _“You know what—Under the right circumstances….”_

“Well well…Who do we have fleeing from the Spider’s web?” A mischievous voice sang from beside.

_Olivia….!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I am conflicted to how I wrote this chapter. It's more to my usual length but, I'll leave the spoiler to the end.
> 
> Think it serves to better the plot in the long run though

“I KNEW IT!” He exclaimed, leaping into the air and punching. Quickly grasping Lena’s arm again and looping his arm underneath to secure her.

“…Unbelievable. Why am I not surprised that you know about a place like this?” Adam buried his forehead into a palm.

Charlie’s brows rose up, a spark of recognition in his features. “Wait, this isn’t….by chance, Talon?” He glanced towards the other duo, Adam shot him a look. Raising both hands into the air defensively, “Hey—Sophie, wouldn’t shut up about this place.” As the words left his mouth, his eyes widened, a mistake.

“What—Sophi--MY SIS—MY LITTLE SISTER, SOPHIE?” Adam spluttered at, the look that followed confirmed his suspicions. He seethed at, “YOU—YOU’RE A LITTLE GIT, YOU KNOW THAT?!”

The playboy could only offer a wry smile and shrug, knowing full well they couldn’t release their captured pet. Lena could only whine and kick weakly, having tired herself out on the way out. The cheeky woman attempted to sneak away only to be held up by a high-ranking squaddie, Jack Morrison.

“You wankers! I’m going to give you a right walloping!” Lena panted, she slumped in their grasps, refusing to move her legs as they dragged her along.

Noah rolled his eyes, teasing. He reached over to boop his nose, “Stop throwing a wobbly, Lena. We’re just going to see your new friend—"

Lena snapped at the finger with her teeth, “Grrr!” Only serving to reinforce their image of her as a puppy, she glared at each of them. A hint of playfulness behind the smouldering. “What are you talking about anyway—What do you know?!”

His grin widened, eyes twinkling in delight. Sun-tanned skin wrinkling gently around the corner of his eyes, tightening his grip around her arm as he clasped his hands together. Evident excitement, Adam groaned. “It’s her…I’m almost certain of it, Widowmaker!”

The trio glanced at each other, quizzically. Same question on each of their tongues, “Widow-who?” They questioned in unison.

“Bloody hell, Noah you’re a freak. It’s a good thing he hasn’t asked—” Adam added

_SLAP!_

They exchanged a glare—The bulkier of the two backed down, a smug grin despite the gloved slap.

“Widowmaker. A dominatrix, THE legendary domiantrix, she’s famous in the industry. Even been featured in a couple of business magazines!” He licked his lips practically bouncing from foot to foot, continuing. “Apparently she only accepts playthings and pets according to preferences. Money doesn’t cut it, she has an Instagram page too. They’re all gorgeous. A bit inactive as of late though.”

The quartet inched towards the building, ambling along as Noah continued his extensive explanation. Lena felt a ball of tension rise in her chest, the more she heard…The more reluctant she became.

“Apparently how she earned the moniker, a couple of her clients turned out to be married—Ended a couple when their spouses found out—One even ended in a death! Claiming they did it so they could be with her. Of course, as soon as she found out. She banished them and had the authorities called.”

Charlie quirked a brow, “Bloody hell, talk about throwing a wobbly. That’s pretty fucked up…” He reached up to scratch his chin before peeking back at Lena’s phone. “She is breathtaking though. Can see why.”

“Blimey, her reviews have never fallen below 4.5.” Noah crooned, grunting as the woman he held restrained slumped harder. “How the hell do you get so lucky, eh? I’m feeling chuffed now that I know you. Bloody brilliant!”

A sense of dread overtook the young woman, it sounded like they had set her up, an exchange of favours. She owed her twice—To such a scary individual nonetheless. “C..Can we not go?”

“Blimey, we’re going in, she invited us all to come along. On the condition if I—Err, you came.”

Pulling up by the bouncer, a man dressed sharply in black suit and tie. Their dark shades hid their eyes impeccably. Thick blonde hair drawn back by some binding agent. He held a hand up, intercepting their path should they have chosen to continue forward. “I’m sorry, you are ill-equipped for this establishment. Please return…..” Trailing off, he peered down at the slumped woman, cheeks puffed out. “Are you not Lady Pharah’s friend?”

“Pharah? I don’t know no Pharah! But I was here last night.”

A flicker of recognition, he leaned back. “Ah I see, you must be the quartet we were told to look out for. Lena Oxton and entourage?”

She snickered, “Entourage? Blimey—Bollocks” Her tune took a 180, realising that they had to enter now.

“Mistress Widowmaker has been waiting for your arrival. You…Might want to pick yourself up—”

“NO! I am here against my will, mark it down! These three minging mutts are forcing me to come along!”

A head poked out excitedly. Exotic tan, side-cut with razor lines shaved through, undoubtedly Hispanic with grape violet eyes. “Ola~! You must be the welsh corgi I heard about from Pharah!” The rest of her body appeared into view, well proportioned. Whimsical in nature as she sauntered over, head leaned back haughtily at the men.

Adam’s grip stiffened.

Noah stood at attention, “Flight—” Silenced by a finger held up in the air. The rest dared not risk the same.

Pausing in front of Lena and leaning over, like a child would with a new puppy. She reached down, playing with the girl’s cheeks. “Encantador! You are every bit adorable as described—Hmm?” She peered in closer, grasping the chin and inspected side to side. “Potential….Marvelous, you could be jaw-dropping. And—” A finger tapped just above the dumbstruck woman’s chest, tracing down the side, licking her lips. They squirmed underneath. “Supple curves…” She paused, rising a little. As if to sniff the air, “PHARAH, COME GREET YOUR FRIEND!” Calling out over her shoulder. A long chain appeared in the hispanic’s hand, a sharp tug followed. A quiet yelp.

“F-F—Fuck you! I ref…refuse!” A voice called back, acquainted.

Lena peered over the woman’s side, blinking rapidly. Bouncing back and forth questioningly. “Faree—” A clawed finger silenced her, a wink.

“We don’t use real names here sweetie, unless we’re close with everyone within earshot.” Murmuring quietly, as if lecturing a child. “PHARAH, YOU GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE OR I’M FETCHING THE BITCH SUIT!”

“Sombra! I will deck you on your ass, I WILL—EEK!” The woman named Sombra had yanked the chain harshly, a dishevelled but all too familiar woman stumbled into view. A pleased cackle followed from the instigator.

Cocoa skin flushed a lighter shade, a blush perhaps? She covered herself up with both hands.

Lena’s jaw dropped. Fareeha stood there covering up, in a fitted top, hip belt and a full-length skirt. Elbow length blouse tucked into the skirt. “L-Lena! D..Don’t tell Angela!” She stammered, fighting against the chain attached to a collar around her neck. With a large yank, managing to tumble Sombra onto her back.

Quick to recover, the Mexican whirled the length taut in her grip, returning the favour and causing the Egyptian to stumble forward, into her grasp. A mean sneer across her features. Voice turning sultry as she pressed her forehead against the woman’s cheek, clawed hand cupping the breast across. “Boys….Girl. Allow me to introduce you to one of our top dominatrix’s, Pharah. She’s agreed to be my little plaything for the afternoon however.”

A snarl, “Like hell! You jumped me as I—Nnghh.”

Charlie blinked, his jaw ajar, as were the rest of his companions. Enough to fit a tennis ball into each of their mouths. “Wait—Angela? Are you—H..Her girlfriend?!” He spluttered, stammering lightly as he glanced between Lena and the lasciviously dressed lady.

“W-W-What are you doing here?!” Lena squeaked, temper flaring suddenly, scrambling up to her feet. “DOES ANGIE KNOW?”

The Egyptian slammed a palm, practically uppercutting the woman holding her against her will. Their head snapped backward, “Y..Yes. I…Uhh…I work here..” Reluctant, her body language withdrawn as her tone. Response eliciting a quiet gasp.

“Whhahahaaat…?” Lena yanked her arms free with surprising strength and stormed up, grasping the top of the fitted bra with a fist. Tugging down until they were level. “DOES. SHE. KNOW?” Up on her tippy toes as her face practically pressed against. A rapid nod followed, eyes darting between the faces. The security guard turned away, fighting to suppress his laughter.

“YES—OWW, LENA, YOU’RE HURTING—IT’S HOW WE MET!” She practically squealed the answer. The grip around her neck released, the naïve woman turned pale. A twinge of guilt wormed its way into her chest. _“I’m going to kill you later, Sombra!” _The corner of her left eye winced as the pilot backpedalled.

Stumbling back, tripping. Thankfully her two mates restraining her moments earlier, caught the collapsing woman. “W..What? Ang…Angela is into this…” Her eyes spun in circles, stars appearing over them.

Noah the second to recover, biting down on his finger’s knuckle. “H—Holy shit, I..I recognise you, P-Pharah! You’re another premiere—Eeee…!” He devolved into a schoolgirl, jumping about and flapping his hands for a second before recomposing himself. “I—Is it true, you’re g-good friends with Widowmaker?! Is she here? Where is she!?”

Pharah grumbled, hiding behind side faced with Sombra at the forefront, acting as a shield. “Yes…And yes..”

The whimsical Mexican, evidently pleased at the turnout gestured with a hand, fingers unravelling. Her posture straightened, heels clicking together as a certain professionalism took over. “She is awaiting you, inside. Please proceed at your leisure. On the right, gentleman”

Noah continued to bounce from foot to foot, Charlie bobbed a little by the knees, his own excitement escaped him through his wide-eyed gaze. Lena returned to her reluctant sack. Knees hovering merely inches above the ground, refusing to carry herself again. Adam remained the least conspicuous.

Quartet proceeded inward, Adam’s head turned. Unable to break contact with the Mexican who merely offered a cheeky wink towards, he snapped back to the front. Covering his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“Holy shit—Those two birds were bloody gorgeous. That Pharah chick—She’s Angie’s girl yeah?” Charlie muttered when they he believed to be out of earshot.

The doors parted, classical music drifted gently throughout, drowned by the many quiet conversations. Decorated like a seamless strip club bar, dark walls, velvet carpet, bright coloured couches, the diamond shaped bar planted in the middle. Ceiling removed to accommodate multiple levels. The lighting dim but accentuated by fluorescent neon. If not for the strip poles planted in the corners, it may have passed for a posh restaurant or bar. And yet, this couldn’t have been less than a sixth of the overall building.

At the top of the stairs, a slender but curvy beauty stood, lengthy, rich grape coloured hair tied into a neat ponytail. Their cool gaze, an aura of command evident as everyone in the room gaped up at. A rare sight for the woman to appear in public, a finger curled, beckoning them upward. With that, they turned, departing.

“…”

The least likely voice cut in, “I’ll say it. Bloody hell, she’s something else.”

Three sets of eyes turned onto the Asian.

“…W..What?”

They all shrugged, smug about it. Proceeding up the staircase, clearly out of place in their uniforms as they marched up. The tail of the woman’s coat in view as they rounded up, whether intentional or coincidence, an air of mystery. Lena, given into fate, begrudgingly helped. Finally utilising her sore feet, carpeted floors, took mercy with extra padding. The hallways littered with clean circular tables and comfortable couches, the game of chase continued until the fourth floor, the final. Tail of the coat disappeared into an entranceway, pausing before it. Charlie poked his head through, recoiling quickly and stood at attention before marching in.

Diligent, they refused to let go of her arms. Knowing full well the woman had a penchant for escape and evasion. The room, dark as ever. Golden amber hues stared piercingly at the guests, they sat back into the cushioned seat. Finger tapping methodically against the desk, she remained silent summoning forth a sense of unease.

“A..Ahem, Pilot Officer, Charlie Murphy. Ma’am.” It drew the piercing gaze for a mere split second. Disappearing underneath a blink as it refocused onto the rather less plucky than usual pilot, flicking to the two gentlemen with the woman in their grasp. The shadow of the gentle neon behind cast enough light to observe the questioning flicker of her brows.

“W..We bought o-our little Corgi with u..us!” Noah stammered, casting his eyes upward. As if proud of this achievement, Lena continued drill into the side of his head with a laser-like glare. Adam merely scratched his head and shrugged.

“Corgi…?” The voice practically cooed, corner of their lips curling in the slightest before drawing into a thin line. Sharp upturned eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by, bought?” Finger tapping halted.

The playboy squeezed his eyes shut, he cursed internally. _ Blithering idiot!” _His mind racing in an attempt to figure a passable excuse, “Just a slip of the tongue, we tagged along—”

“Oh no you don’t!” Lena growled, leaping into the air, attempting to kick him. The men restrained her enough for the limb to swing harmlessly.

If amused, Amélie hid it with a short exhale, poker face remaining. “Thank you. Please leave us.” The French accent wafted in the air suggestively, “Enjoy yourselves at the bar, drinks are complimentary. If you find anything that catches your eyes, and the it is mutual. Perhaps you may score.”

Their expressions dropped at first, brightening instantaneously at her offer. Free booze and the opportunity of a life time? Score! They dropped their friend and gave her a harsh slap on the back with a light guffaw, door clicking shut mere seconds later. Their disappointment did not go unnoticed, evident even through hushed whispers.

It sparked a chuckle, their shoulders trembling from amusement. “You have interesting friends, Lena.” The remark lingered in the air, the woman stood in front with drooped shoulders. The opposite of the night before, drawn back and proud, a touch of cockiness.

Head bowing forward, spiky hair bouncing lightly. Defeated somewhat, “Thanks…”

They motioned towards the chair, “Please, seat yourself.” Fingers interlacing as they leaned forward, sliding the accessory forward, barely visible in the dimness.

Lena shuffled forward, in front of the seat and collapsing into it with a soft groan. Her voice devoid of its usual energetic cheer, “Sorry about this mornin’. And if I sound tired, it’s cause our squadron commander made me run till I dropped. Y’know?”

“Mm.” Amélie affirmed with a slight nod, “Fareeha relayed, these are especially important to you.” A pause lingered, “I figured it to be appropriate to return it at the earliest convenience.”

Rocking forward, doubling over as she reached out. Pinching the frame and inspecting it—_Click! _A table lamp ignited, shining light onto the surprisingly bright oak desk. “Thanks!” Satisfied they remained in the same condition as she last witnessed. Her pink lips widened into a beaming smile, sliding them on. “’Ppreciate it! I—” She scratched the back of her head, “Sorry about my mates, they err..Stole my phone, when I was running laps.” Shrinking forward underneath the scrutinizing gaze, tilting backward. Narrowing at.

“I see. That explains many things…”

“N..Neat place though, you can imagine how surprised I was to find out you owned it.”

“When?”

“Just a few minutes ago, my mate, one with the buzzcut. He’s a big fan. Says you have a ton of playthings..? Not sure what he meant by that.” Lena finished before quickly adding, bouncing in her seat as she recalled it. “OH! And that Fareeha apparently works here…. Which makes you, her boss?!”

A cold smile, “Yes. She is an old friend. Still working all the muscles but the one that matters.” Remarking with a hint of warmth, “Weird how life works out, she followed me down this path despite being on her way to a successful programming career.”

“Huh…She’s into computers?”

“Not as much as our other, Oli—Sombra.” She corrected last minute, respecting the privacy rule they had instated. “An unusual one she is.”

“You’re telling me—So…What happened with Faree?”

Amélie leaned back, rolling a short distance back. Her features falling under the neon light, a faint frown, lips curled a pinch downward. “I deemed it fit, for her to receive lite punishment. For her silly act, last night.”

“Whatcha mean?” Lena leaned in, lips pinched together, suckling on the insides of her cheeks. Elbows rested onto knees, engaged.

“Tien Tien, do you not dare to hazard a guess?”

Shoulders bounced according to her knee, gaze rolling upward. Darting minuscule side to side, as if attempting to recount the previous night. “Uhmm…Did she try to set you up with somebody?”

The dominatrix inclined her head, brows raising a millimetre in surprise. “Correct.”

She beamed, snapping her fingers. “Oxton strikes again!”

“With you.”

“HUAAHH?” She leapt onto her feet.

Amélie smirked. Allowing the rest to unfold, the girl paced about throwing her arms about. Venting about her arrival and the heated discussion between Angela and Fareeha. She found herself inexplicably drawn to teasing the girl.

Perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t exaggerate and in fact prenaturally emotional. A side effect of her highly energetic demeanour.

Sensing another opportunity, the accent grew weightier, “Ahh…Dr. Ziegler, what an interesting woman. So innocent on the exterior…”  
  
“Whaddya mean on the exterior?! She’s an angel! Never seen her do nuffing wrong!” Lena chirped, slightly indignant at the implication.

“But deep down, a minx. It was how the two met. Within the hour of her arrival, she was dancing against one of those pole and thrusting her hips. Not a care in the world.” Lena recoiled in disbelief, and then slow horror. Gleaning a hint of truth behind those words, “When Fareeha took an interest in her, she was all but a sweaty mess of lust and desire.”

“S..Stop! My friend is not l-like that!” Her expression desperate, as if the very world around her crumbled.

They pressed on, “I think I still have zhe tape here. I was quite tempted myself, you see.” A light flutter of mirth in their throat, were it not for the topic at hand, Lena may have found it attractive—Instead stood there, rooted in denial. “Perhaps, ask her yourself.”

They squirmed, posture shrinking again, bouncing on their feet as if their bladder, full. Arms clasped together, fists pressed against each other. Resembling a nervous wreck on the verge of a breakdown. “No! No! Angie is angie! She’s a pure angel! Nuh uh! I’m not listening!”

Taking pity, the French woman yielded. She slid back and chuckled, her shoulders felt light. What an amusing woman, were it not for her height and evident age. She could have passed off as a mere child. So pure. So innocent.

But curiosity took grasp, and she couldn’t help but ask. “Surely you have had similar desires at some point? Perhaps to control…Or be controlled? It is not so different from that.”

“NEVER!!” Lena cried out comically, standing tall and proud. Proud? Why?

“Truly? A woman of your age? I find zhat hard to believe…. None of your partners ever desired to take the relationship further?”

Hesitation, gaze shifting away. Their eyes grew distant, a brief spark. Their facial muscles twitched, her breathing disturbed, coming in jerking heaves. Tears welled in the corner.

Lena deflated, her shoulders slumping. Down, neither comical or cute. An emotion rare for the pilot, suddenly withdrawn. “I…I don’t want to talk about this.” Any trace of her former self vanished, “Uhm…If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave now.” Turning her back towards, atmosphere tense.

Amélie’s breath hitched, unexpected…Puzzled at first, an understanding dawned. “Wait…!” She called out, weird. The words came out without permission, her heels clicked, out of her chair. _The off switch._ “I apologise.” The best she could muster, the girl bowed her head and departed. Glum.

Sinking back into her seat, resting an elbow onto the armchair, burying her forehead into an open palm. She knew that look, from years back. _Loneliness_. One of loss. The cheerful and bubbly attitude, all but a defence mechanism, to deflect from the years of crippling solitude.

Muttering out loud, “Fareeha, you might be right...But that girl is a virgin.” An annoyed buzz worked in her stomach, her ribs felt tightly bound unlike the effects of a corset, it felt like a punch to her tummy by an invisible force. A feeling all too acquainted with.

_Guilt._

Her phone blinked, _anger._ Plucking it up, the text only served to further irritate. The bottle cap untwisted, control….She needed to control—Her world blacked out briefly. Audible cries of shock rang out, she felt faint, vision blurred but clearing. Rapid footsteps.

_Fatigue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Yeah! I was going to leave Emily out of this initially, just have Tracer be extremely glum cause she's been lonely for so long. But it didn't make sense for Widow to care so much then, since...Well I think we all know where I'm going with this. 
> 
> Hope y'all are alright with this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a short chapter. Very short.
> 
> Fret not, I already have the next written up, this was finished the night before but I felt sleepy and windows update....
> 
> I tried experimenting with the idea of a phone screen!
> 
> Let me know how you find it? Is it legible? Or difficult to navigate :<

_Babe, I might not be able to make it tonight._

_Oh….Alright, is something the matter?_

_I think you should speak to Lena as well_

_What? What happened, DID YOU DO SOMETHING TO HER?_

_9:19PM_

_WELL?_

_I SWEAR, FAREEHA. I WILL CUT YOU IN A PLACE WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE_

_No! Why am I suspect #1!? I’m trying to be a good friend here!_

_Explain yourself!_

_9:23PM_

_NOW!_

_ I’m not 100% clear on the details either but Amélie’s acting unnatural._

_Lena also left, think someone occurred between them. Her air force friends were here too_

_What? She was over?_

_AT WORK?_

_….Yeah. It’s a long story. Please can we do this another time?_

_9:32PM_

_Fine. I’ll go speak to Lena. _

_10:14PM_

_How’s it going over there?_

_10:18PM_

_She’s not answering._

_I’m tempted to go to her place but I have work tomorrow._

_Angela, I think Lena’s hiding something_

_10:23PM_

_What do you mean?_

_You’re not making much sense,_

_10:31PM_

_How long have you known her?_

_Since we were children, give or take._

_10:34PM_

_Has she ever had a crush on anybody?_

_Yeah, of course. Another boy I think, a ginger, dark red hair_

_Where are you going with this?_

_10:41PM_

_Did she ask them out? I’ve been wondering myself but how come _

_she’s been alone this entire time?_

_We were like seven, the concept of dating wasn’t exactly…_

_Wait a minute_

_Something the matter?_

_I moved back to Switzerland when I was nine._

_We didn’t see each other for nearly nine years…._

_Yes? And? During that entire time, through high school. You’re telling me_

_a girl like Lena couldn’t find a boyfriend or girlfriend?_

_10:47PM_

_Mein gott, I..Completely forgot about this_

_It wasn’t a boy, it was a girl. Just Tomboyish._

_ You’ll need to elaborate a bit more, I’m lost now._

_Lena wasn’t always this cheerful and lively, believe it or not._

_Its just been so long, I had forgotten what she was like in High School_

_High school? Any pictures?_

_I’ll show you next time you’re over_

_Alright, what was she like in high school though??_

_Was she the welsh corgi like we know today?_

_10:52PM_

_No…Not at all. I can’t say for sure, we weren’t friends back then_

_What?? REALLY? I thought you had been best friends for life._

_No, she hung out with others, like Hana Song I think. Sweet Korean girl._

_Always playing video games, streams now on Twitch. Quite popular _

_So how’d you become the way you are today_

_Uhm…Really it was university. We bumped into each other_

_Started talking about the past _

_We were on decent terms in High School, but she seemed to avoid me._

_Really?_

_Yeah, she’d have this sad look. Not like puppy dog eyes or anything_

_Like, the rest of the world didn’t exist, she’d march on with life_

_Now that I think about it, she was quite cold with everyone_

_Huh….The way Amélie hinted, it sounds like she lost a loved one_

_Well…I never did see that girl ever again. I think Emily was her name_

_She was nice, I was really looking forward to catching up with the two of them_

_In High school_

_But…Yeah. You already know the rest_

_Hey Angela? I’m just going to come out and say it, don’t get angry._

_11:01PM_

_Okay…_

_I think that behaviour she puts on in front of us, it’s a sham, or at least exaggerated_

_I’m not trying to take anything away from your friendship, mind you_

_It’s just that... Amélie thinks it’s a defence mechanism. _

_I don’t doubt she’s a cheerful person but to the extent she puts up…_

_It’s unnatural, don’t you think?_

_I see….._

_11:23PM_

_Angie? You okay?_

_Yeah._

_You’re doing it again…_

_What?_

_One word replies! You know I hate that_

_It’s late, I have work tomorrow. Goodnight_

_…._

_Gpd damn it woman_

_I’m trying to help_

_Don’t._

_Wait, why does it sound like you’re angry at me?!_

_Goodnight._

“God damn it.” Fareeha cursed, she glanced up. Amélie had sat herself on a patio recliner, staring up into moonlit sky. They seemed unnaturally tense. _Is this my fault?_

She approached gingerly, as if treading around a sleeping tigeress. Her heel clicked unnaturally loud, she winced.

They held their gaze upward, undisturbed by the noise. Their breathing, shallow.

“Amélie…You okay?”

A shaky nod.

She opened her mouth to speak again.

They cut her off, the voice distant. “Fareeha. Lets pay your mother a visit, tomorrow.”

The amari winced, years of bruising resurfaced. “_Ah shit, here we go again…”_

At least as a mother, she could provide advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand have to add another character. I have an idea how to bring them together now, ' v'b


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)—̳͟͞͞o Q–(’̀-’̀Q )
> 
> Catch the easter eggs.
> 
> Another double post in a day

_1, 2_

_Jab, Straight, _

_Weave, parry. _

_Lead left hook, Strai—_

_Right hook counter!_

_Shit…_

Her world spun for a split second, the strength sapped momentarily from her muscles. Stance faltering to the left, coiling, with all her might she leapt into the air, performing a spinning back kick towards the senior woman.

With surprising ease, she caught it with one hand. A harsh grunt followed and an amused chuckle as she tossed her towards the mesh fence, airborne.

Slender back colliding, sending the fence into a light ring. Collapsing onto the ground with a hollow thud,

“Aikido could use a bit of work. Spacing’s for shit, Guillard.” Despite her age, lively and vibrant. Her body fit as a fiddle, even athletes envied her.

“Shut up Amari….Or I’ll disconnect your other cornea..” The French woman rolled onto her front, fingers clasped into a fist, wrapped in thick padded mixed martial arts gloves. Pushing herself up with knuckles and wiped her lip.

“Mom—”

“Quiet, dear. I’m teaching your friend a lesson.” Tone brusque, “We can go at it as long as you like—Hyuh!” Interrupted as the woman shoulder tackled her, pinning against the mesh, head driven under the chin. Straightening the elderly woman out. Clever girl. A powerful underhook drilled its way towards her ribs, intercepting with an outstretched arm. The blow turned into a grapple. A step ahead as always, she released her grip and swung it over her opponent’s head, twisting to the side, leaning her weight against the mesh and sinking a millimetre further. Crouching down, the head slipped against and collided with the mesh, grasping the woman’s leg and yanked upward.

The dominatrix felt herself tumble to the side, a sharp intake of breath as she landed on her forearms with a wince. Bad. Attempting to counteract quickly, only for a firm hand to slam into her back. Side of her skull collided with the canvas, “UGH!”

“Not bad, you certainly are more slippery than my daughter, you have tact but lack brawn.” She mused, suppressing the woman underneath with a grip on ankle and weight across her back.

“I’m not done yet, Ana!” They hissed, a whimper quickly followed as they executed a leg lock. They clutched their thigh,

“Tap out.”

“Non—EERRGGHHRHH..!” Her world exploded into agony, sharp, jagged pain ran up her dominant foot. The arm clutching the leg released, flailing in the air.

“Submit!”

“Amélie! JUST TAP OUT!” Fareeha called out from the side, clutching the mesh.

“GNnngnr—” Her left hand slapped the floor in quick succession. The pressure lifted from her ankles, immediately. Strained limbs collapsing immediately with a huff, panting. Eyes squeezed shut as she lifted her knee up to nurse her wound

“Good girl.” The mother chuckled, reaching down to ruffle the tightly drawn back scalp. “You’re still no match for me.”

“Managed to disconnect you’re—”

The laugh deepened, fond. “That was a lucky blow—A good reminder. Try not to get too hung up about it.”

“Mom, Angela said there are procedures to look into to repair your eye.”

The former military woman waved the air, climbing back onto her feet and groaning. “Very kind of her, but I’m comfortable with who I am now.”

Fareeha frowned, “It’s not like she’d charge you…”

“Money isn’t the issue dear—You know that. I just don’t care to”

“You old hag, Ana. You’re just scared of needles—UGH!” A foot drove into her solar plexus, sending her a centimetre off the floor.

Ana seemed taken aback, jerking a thumb at. “What’s with her? She’s chippier than usual. Usually keeps the ring taunts during the round.”

“Got in a fight with her new girlfriend—Kidding! Jeez.” A glove slapped against the mesh, where her face sat.

The injured woman hobbled towards the exit, clutching her stomach. Evidently nauseated as soreness permeated throughout. “…Thanks for the round, I guess..Amari.”

“My pleasure as always, Amélie **Guillard.” **Finishing sarcastically, a smug grin on her features. The banter friendly but a gentle reminder of a dark history between. Personally, she had buried the hatchet, only wishing to remind that the past is to be remembered, not to be lingered upon.

They stormed off with a huff, the various men and women throughout the training hall and gymnasium snapped back to attention. At first their attention caught by the high-level exchange of blows, then the elder’s skill and finally. Amélie’s beauty, her rage.

Now the occasional glances tossed towards Fareeha, still clean and fresh. They knew her well, having followed her mother into the same training hall various times throughout her life. Every time matured a little more. Soon, the wallflower of the building.

“Care to go a few rounds with your mother, Fareeha?”

Brows knitted

“You’ll get wrinkles if you do that too often.”

“Not today—Oh shut up.”

A little chortle, they walked off to the end of the octagon and back, exiting and accepting the towel graciously.

“That girl, she has likely surpassed you.”

Fareeha stiffened, defensively muttering. “I could still take her.” Knowing well and truly in the back of her mind, they were a formidable opponent just short of her mother.

Ana cupped her daughter’s cheek, “To understand and accept the truth, is the first key to overcoming an obstacle. She would have you on your knees in seconds.” She shot a knowing look.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, “We—We’re not like that.”

“I know dear. You have that swiss girl, bring her around sometime.” She sat down on a bench, wiping down still.

The younger Egyptian sat across from, offering a bottle of questionable liquid. A concoction of ingredients her mother enjoyed, effective though. “We’re…We’re not on great terms right now.”

“Oh? What did you do this time?”

A whine, “Why is it always me?! Everyone thinks I’m the cause.”

“Well? Are you?”

A pause followed, head hanging, shoulders drooped. “I…Maybe a little…But I didn’t know!”

_BANG, CRASH, CLANG CLANG!_

“Sorry!” A distant but familiar voice called out. Frustration evident. “I’ll pay fo…” Fading out

“Start from the beginning, our friend will be a while.”

So, she did.

Fareeha recounted the story she knew thus far. Adding every detail necessary and…Altering certain events, such as what started it all. But a mother knows best, their brows raised suspiciously between parts.

“So you tried to play matchmaker.”

“What—No,”

“If I recall, you quite literally recounted to Anjelah? Was it?”

“Angela…” A grumble, backfire incoming.

Ana nodded, correcting and continuing. Voice mimicking with eerie precision “Angela, Now observe, as I play matchmaker.” So that’s how she tricked her into learning piano…

“I…Dislike the fact you can do that.”

A smile crimped at their lips, drawing it to the side, their eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Smug.

“Okay..Fine, it’s my fault but I meant well!”

“Of course, you did, I never implied otherwise. Just unfortunate.” They paused, unclasping the head of the bottle, pinching at the rubber. “Explains why Amélie is the way she is.”

“…So what do I do?”

Ana shrugged, “Until I meet this Dr. Ziegler, hard to say. Backing off is the safe bet but going above and beyond could win many brownie points.”

“I’m stuck then.”

“Not exactly.”

Fareeha stared at her mother quizzically, downing the bottle of the nasty homemade potion. To the last drop.

“Aaahhh~ Where does this Angela work?”

“…You’re kidding.”

The aged brows raised, corner curled smirk. It said it all, _“Try me.”_

….

“Doctor. You have another patient.” A male nurse poked his head in with a small nervous grin, informing the hard at work, scribbling into her notepad.

“Hmn? Ah, thank you, nurse Kieran. Please send them through” Too absorbed with copying the necessary data down to turn her head and address him, tone sincere however.

“Right away!”

Heels clicked into the room, clasping together as they stepped through the entranceway. The door clicked shut.

Angela turned about slowly in her seat, doublechecking the notepad and sheet. “Good afternoon, I am Dr. Angela Ziegler. How may I be of service?” She peered over her glasses and set the two items back onto her desk. A frown teased her expression.

The woman stood at attention, tall. Silver hair, milk chocolate skin and mature. The years had been generous to this woman, at least she thought. “Here are my charts, doctor.” A clipboard revealed from behind her back and offered.

Striding over, offering a pleasant smile. Accepting it politely, twisting it around. Her initial belief, correct. The years, incredibly generous. “I must say, you have marvellous skin, M..”

“Ms. Divorced.”

“Ah, Ms. Ama…ri.” Her lashes fluttered twice, rapid. The frown came to life, breath hitching. Reluctantly she lifted her gaze from the charts, meeting. Recognition, the corner of her eyes widened. A shiver in the shoulders nearly leapt her from the sterile tiles.

“And you must be my daughter’s esteemed girlfriend.” Their orbs mischievous, a smirk tugged at her cheeks. Drinking in the woman’s figure.

“I..I..Uh…I”

The woman stepped forward.

Angela step back.

Another. Another. Another.

Her shapely rear bumped into the desk behind, heart fluttered. Hand trembling gently, god she aged well….

“You are.”

_Nod nod!_

“Good, I must say, she has done well for herself.”

“P..Pleasure to meet you.” Angela raised a hand and extended it gingerly, held in front of her tummy.

Ana grasped it firmly, kind. “أنا الأسعد” Evidently in her comfort zone.

“W..What?”

“It is Arabic, I am happier.”

“O—Oh. No..No, I am definitely.”

“Come, let us not stand at attention.” She pivoted around and hopped on top of the examination bed.

Angela hid her blush, eyes lingered on the familiar tattoo. Her thoughts disturbed, a heat burned her back, ashamed. “Ah..Of course, what brings you to my office today?”

“I am experiencing unnecessary tension in my neck.”

“Hmm, have you been suffering any fatigue or stress-related aches?”

Ana tilted her head to the side, “Hmm..A touch of fatigue but nothing else. My ear aches however.”

“Ear ache? Allow me to take a look, which side?”

“Unnecessary doctor, I already know the cause.”

Angela paused mid-stride. “Oh—Very well.”

“My daughter cannot stop talking about you. And your activities.”

Angela leapt into the air, away from. As if she had been shocked by a powerful surge of static electricity, her limbs stiffened against her body. _“FAREEHA, MEIN GOTT!”_

The older Egyptian guffawed at the response, a touch of guilt squeezed her ribs. “Hahahee…I kid, doctor. I made the last part up.” Allowing the woman ease before attaching a further snippet, “But. I am aware of her occupation, so…I can only imagine.”

That didn’t help. In the slightest. Cheeks a shade of rose. She looked like she was about to burst into tears from the embarrassment.

“Only good things dear. She absolutely adores you—Ah and I appreciate your offer” Gesturing to the eye with a finger, “But I am quite comfortable with the way I am.”

“W..W..Welcome, Ms. A..Amari.” Angela stammered, raising the clipboard up to cover her visage bar her eyes.

“To be honest, the real reason for my visit was to ascertain your intentions.”

“I..Intentions..?”

They shrugged, legs dangling playfully in the air. “Just a precautionary measure, I just do not wish to see my daughter hurt, is all. She may be tough on the exterior, but she’s a big softie.”

Angela lowered the clipboard, a touch indignant. “N..Never! I would never harm your daughter.”

Ana’s grin broadened, lower lip pushing forward as she shot her a doubtful nonetheless spirited look, “I sure hear a lot about scalpels and hypodermic needles.”

Dumbstruck, speechless.

Then incoherent speech.

Ana crossed her legs and sat back, enjoying the show. She still had it. “_Sweet girl this one. Like a swiss roll. I approve.”_

_…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the Teen Titans: The Judas contract quote?
> 
> A cookie to one who does! Also, will drop chapter 8, if someone finds it!. (A slightly shorter chapter but an update on Lena's status)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑  
Nobody managed to catch the voice line from Deathstroke to Nightwing :<
> 
> Without further ado, chapter 8

“Protoss vs Zerg? Too easy!”

She groaned, fingers clicking windows and d simultaneously. Searching for the familiar icon, the giant L. Launching a second game, alt tabbing rapidly between two programs, her macro flawless.

Queuing up for a game, popping almost immediately. The Korean girls’ eyes winced, APM affected. Accepting the game, scrolling down. Good, last pick. Another easy win. Alt tabbing back to Starcraft 3, eyes darting around the screen over time. Even glancing at her chat box, whistling by at lightspeed pace.

“I’m just ending this quick, six gate all-in.” Idly commenting in korean on her strategy, the previous delay cost her precious seconds. Warping in six stalkers on a proxy pylon, preparing to strike.

_DING--!_

“Ugh, champion select…” English now. Darting back to the other game, thankful her high-end PC could handle it. Instantly locking Yasuo..

“Now, back to the matter at hand.” Queuing up multiple attack orders, screen darting everywhere.

“Summoners rift!” They loaded in, quick to position her character into the necessary bush.

Licking her lips, staring into the webcam, “APM jom ollyeo bolgga?”

The chat exploded too quickly for her to follow but she took it as an affirmative nonetheless, piece by piece, dismantling her opponent’s military, production buildings and defences in order. The game, over. Victory screen appeared in due time, she could accept it after. All in time for creeps to spawn. Tapping tab, she inspected the names, many familiar names on both teams. The most prominent, the enemy mid laner.

Shifting her focus to the next video game, loosed a wide yawn. Covering it with a petite hand, blinking sleepily.

_Last hit, trade with passive up, last hit, dodge skill shot, return with third Q. Level 2 All-in, flash ignite down._

“Ahhh ahh, this guy. He always falls for that, no matter how many times I do it to him. He must be tilted.” She remarked for her chat.

_BANG BANG BANG!_

The streamer jolted, eyes snapping wide awake. Leaning back from her seat, glancing between the two sources of noise. She had a few seconds, rising from her seat and shuffling towards the door. Aware that her rear, on display in her trademark sponsored skin-tight suit. Advertised to prevent discomfort from sweat.

Reaching forward grasping the knob, twisting it and tugging. “Haaaahnnah~!” The cheerful, evidently drunk London accent called out, arms leapt forth and embraced the girl in a hug.

Hana yelped, the unexpected guest took her by surprise. Something uncomfortable pressed against her back. Pleasantly. “Lena?! Is that you, oh my god girl—What are you doing—” Glancing back at the screen, a return kill. She had been AFK for too long. “You reek of soju!”

The off her rocks Londoner stumbled into the room, spinning about. Plucky and intoxicated, swigging heavily from the mild sized bottle. “Weeeheee! I jus’hh land..ud a few hoursh ago!”

The Korean girl winced, adjusting her attention between the screen and her friend of many years whom continued to stumble about and occasionally dance. The viewer numbers spiked, hard. But that, the last of her concern.

_“Man, I hope Twitch doesn’t ban me for this…” _Distracted and a few creeps behind, Hana focused on the game. “I’ll be right with you, Lena--Gunggeukgi chadan!” Crying out loud in her native tongue, wind-walling the ultimate of Veigar. With masterful display, she managed to solo him with less than three quarters of her health at the start of the engagement.

Boy, she flexed on him. Her boyfriend, of course. The chat knew, hardly a secret between the audience and her. They showed no mercy to each other, when it came to video games. Gloves off, anything’s fair game.

The general poll believed her to be the superior gamer. Not far from the truth.

Fifteen minutes, the game. Over.

An angry flurry of messages buzzed through her phone. She cast a glance at it and snickered, raising it up to the webcam. “He’s mad, hehe. We did it guys.”

The phone continued buzzing, having taken a quickly different tone. He began commenting on her friends shapely rear and overall pleasant aesthetic. Flushing the streamer, brow knitting into a cute but sharp pout. Tapping back an angry message before slamming the communication device with a “Hmph! Sorry guys, I’ll be cutting the stream early, my friend Lena, from the Royal Air Force has arrived!”

With that the stream ended. The chat continued buzzing, comments about the game, merciless girlfriend, savage boyfriend and her friend’s amazing body.

Hana turned around in her seat, greeted by the sight of her friend flopped over the side of the couch, suckling on the bottle of soju, well-toned and smooth legs covered by dark coloured compression long tights kicking in the air. Rear, well on display. She stared enviously for a bit before sliding over. “What’s up Lena, why didn’t you let me know you were coming beforehand. That’s unlike you.”

They turned to, hiccupping lightly. Silly expression buzzing with a serenity brought on by alcohol, “Hic! I duhno! Jus’h fellll like droooopping by! I—I didn’ dishturb chu, did iIiiiii!?” The realisation dawned, head dipping down, doe-eyes brimming with tears.

“Wah? Nahh, I can always stream another day, plus…Now that you’re in town, we can always do an IRL stream.” She pinched a cheek, blowing a bubble with the gum. _POP! _“Consider us even if we do.”

That cheered the international up, they looped an arm around their neck and squeezed towards, throwing them off their seat, scooped into the hug. They giggled like idiots. “Miissshed you! Come vishhet some time..”

Hana pried herself from with a cheeky grin, “I do! Really, I do, but I can’t film on your base without clearance, and that’s annoying to apply for. You’ve been too busy to facilitate it too.”

“Nuuuuu, I’ll ashk necksh time! Youusshh can record, me flyyyy!” The brit giggled drunkenly, adding. “Don’tchuuu passh out!” She threw her arms in the air.

The Korean eyes rolled, shaking her head playfully. “Don’t look down on me! I can handle it!” She retreated, climbing back onto her feet. “I’ll get you some water, can’t drink only soju.”

“Moooaarrree…Cansh I have shhhhomac?”

“Absolutely not. If you want to drink, we can go out. But you are evidently too far out of it already.” Hana’s tone, authoritative, developed from many years of leading her team to victory in various video games.

Lena drooped, head hanging over the side. Finger drawing on the floor. “…Nokiee…”

Retreating to the kitchen in her comfortably sized apartment, a line through her forehead, brows crinkled in a jagged shape. “_Something must have happened. Lena’s not this irresponsible. Tomorrow should…Be Wednesday in London, she might have work!” _Raising a thumb up, she bit down on her nail. Her close-set eyes narrowed suspiciously, “_I hope this doesn’t have to do with…Emily.”_

Returning with the cup of fluid, she hesitated at the entranceway, the girl stared out the window. Long lashes, hazel eyes distant. As if staring into the vast cosmos, searching for answers from a distant planet. The ordinarily spiky hair deflated somewhat.

She shuffled close, pausing beside. Waiting for the woman to register her presence,

“Ya still watching, Emily?” They murmured gently, sobering a little. “I’m sorry…”

Hana’s hand trembled, her breathing audible. Nostrils flaring as she puffed out a pent-up breath. Raising the limb into the air, it took all her will to restrain the urge. Lowering it with a sigh, the noise enough to snap the woman back to reality.

“Wha—How long you’ve been standing there?” Lena recoiled, feigning fright. Then real.

Hana glared down, “How many times have we gone through this, Lena. It wasn’t your fault. If anything it was hers. Or really, the madman behind the wheel!”

“No—What are we talking about?”

They fell silent. Lena’s mien grew increasingly guilty, edging close. Reaching out gingerly for the cup, it slid out smoothly from the Korean girl’s grip. She took a tiny sip. “Great…water?”

_Shit._ She didn’t mean to blurt that out. “Aaaahh!” She switched to Korean, cussing out her friend a little. “Seriously, I’m so annoyed now, you crazy bitch…” Brushing her face with a hand, back to English. “Screw it, we’re going out. Lets go get some chimaek.”

Their expression brightened, “Woohoo! Chicken and beer!”

_“You’re such a bad fucking liar, Lena…” _Hana warily remarked to herself, the woman lying through her teeth. She had been around the heartbroken british woman long enough. Genuine or not, she could tell like the back of her hand

They relented a little, being a touch too harsh. Expression softening as they bolted towards the door they practically collapsed through earlier. “_I suppose that’s what makes you such a great friend. You can’t help but tell the truth, even when you try to hide it for others sake.”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another canon introduction--Two technically.
> 
> Chapter 9 ahoy!

Enzymatic, tart and tangy, a hint of tea rose. The scent wafted over, tickling her nose pleasantly. She knew the taste well. Coffee. Her stomach growled in anticipation, mulling over the past week’s events.

The small wooden café, classic design, dark and mocha in shade. Red leather couches decorated each side of the rectangular tables. A single individual stood at its serving counter, dressed smartly in a two-piece suit and bow tie.

Classic tunes.

Her phone buzzed, a text? Fumbling into her pockets, digging it out.

Just a reminder.

Birthday, July 19th. A week from now. Damn.

Approaching the counter, a wide smile from the Brazilian, a barista. Only part time, a penchant for brewing coffee in his off hours. “Ana! The usual I presume?” He leaned forward and tapped a finger gently against the POS machine.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. Lucio.”

“No problem, if I’m not wrong…Birthday coming up, right?”

Brows lofted, surprise. She tilted her head gently forward, affirming.

He grinned, “I can’t forget one of my favourite regular’s now can I. First cup free until then.” Waving aside the credit chip, he glided to the coffee machine coolly. “Any plans?”

Ana shook her head, “Unfortunately not. It has been a trying month; my daughter and her troubles keep cropping up.” She gestured to her eye, “Guess who has to solve them.”

He chuckled, bangs shaking in the air. “The one going out with the doctor, right?”

Beans grinding, smoothing off excess and tamping. With practiced movements he snapped filter basket into place. Espresso. The initial blast of steam, milk frothing lightly deafened her words. Whirling the liquid until a silky sheen sat on top.

The worse of the noise pollution finished, she continued. “Yeah, a Swiss woman. Very sweet, I dropped by unannounced.”

His humour deepened, “The infamous Amari ambush. You just can’t give up your ways, can you?”

Climbing onto a bar seat, returning the humour. “I like to stay in practice. It helps, especially when your child can be a touch rambunctious.”

“Oh come now, Fareeha is a lovely girl. She has been nothing but sweet, around here. You’re being a touch harsh, no?”

Rolling her eyes, “Yes, yes. I suppose, she does like poking her nose where it doesn’t belong though.” She shifted in her seat, the drink served moments after. A patisserie followed. Strawberry crème tart.

He gestured, “A quiet afternoon, go ahead.”

She bowed appreciatively, forking a tiny piece into her mouth. The tart intense, sour. But the whipped cream mild, a sip of her drink. Bitter. Complementary, her eyes shut. Enjoying the flavours. “Excellent as always, Lucio. A touch too sour.”

He jotted down the details in a notepad, “Damn…Must’ve been the strawberries…Thanks for that.” Turning his attention back to her, “So, what’s this about her poking her nose?”

The senior woman winced, “Perhaps I’m being too harsh.” Remarking, staring off to the side, stealing a glance at. Correcting with a roll, “Again.”

He smirked.

“Her girlfriend, she has a best friend. Ever since they’ve started dating, has been feeling bored. So…She asked if Fareeha had any friends to set her up.”

Lucio’s brow shot up, “Oh boy. Let me guess…”

Amari bobbed her head, “Yep…Exactly who you’re thinking.”

He blinked rapidly, staring down at the counter with a look of intense doubt. Disbelief at the idea. “That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Mmm…Well, that’s just it. Our favourite blueberry may just have a touch of interest in this girl.”

Recoiling, he turned the look to the mother. “Seriously!?”

Licking her lips, eyes locked onto a jar of beans. _Arabica_. “Who knows, as far as I know. She may have stepped on a landmine, blew up in her face.”

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me. Amélie Lacroix, failed to seduce another woman? Human?” His hand pushed back and forth against the air.

Pointing the fork at him, “Well, I don’t know about seduce. But somehow this girl might be just as messed up as she is.”

“Who?”

Forking in another mouthful, the doorbell jingled. New guest.

“Ana?” The gruff voice called out, blonde handsome features sheltered by a red visor. Still garbed in his military uniform.

“Jack. Good to see you are well.”

He grinned, “Thought I’d stop by for a cup and sandwich for lunch.”

Lucio offered him an upnod, “Coming right up, Morrison!”

“Thanks. When’s the next show?” He strode over and took the seat to the woman’s right. Quirking a brow at the pastry.

She gestured at the barista, understanding dawning on his features.

“Tonight, Club XOYO. Progressive House as usual. You coming down?”

He chuckled, “Wouldn’t miss it, pal.”

“Done. I’ll put your name down, bring whoever.”

The veteran soldier shot the senior a look, _interested?_

Amari waved politely, declining. “Oh no, not this time. Jack. I have a party to plan. Next time.”

“Party? Ahh right, it’s your birthday, coming up. Captain.” He added the last part with a smirk.

Amused, she snapped both and fingergunned at the duo, “Consider yourselves invited. Lucio, mind dropping some tunes for us?”  
  
He spun on the spot, eyes wide. Legs parted, “Seriously? That’d be hot, mind if I bring some experimental tunes?”

“Not at all. Still have to figure out the location though.”

“Before we get to that, I feel bad for cutting in. Looked like you two were in a serious discussion.” Jack swung an arm onto the table and propped the side of his head on a palm.

Lucio returned to his duties, preparing the sandwich and drink, “Yeah, yeah. We were talking about how Fareeha tried to play cupid.”

“Little Faree. How is she?” Jack fondly recalled his pet name for her.

Ana took a sip, mouth working slowly. “Mmm. Started seeing a new girl, Swiss. Doctor. Angela’s her name”

“Hmm? Swiss you say? Interesting. Good chocolate over there.” He cleared his throat, the sandwich arrived first. Eyes wide, sitting up and rubbing palms together.

“Smoked Alaskan salmon, cream cheese and dill pickles.” Lucio announced, gliding to the coffee machine shortly.

“Excellent, looks great. So who’d she tried to set up?”

They answered at the same time

“Amélie.”

“Angela’s friend, Lena.”

Jack choked on his first bite, covering his mouth. Information overload, his eyes blinking rapidly behind the visor. He reached up and yanked it off, revealing piercing cobalt eyes.

Reaching over, fingers clasped into a fist. Slamming it across his back, that helped.

“Kuh—Kuh..kuh!” Jack shook his head, staring at them bewildered. “Guillard’s widower? And Lena?” The puzzled looks he received, elaborating, hand curled into a claw, rotating in the air “Let me get this straight, Angela’s friend, as in Angela Ziegler?” Ana confirmed with a single nod. “By that, I presume you mean Lena Oxton?”

“You know her, Jack?” Ana queried with furrowed brows.

The bitter drink served, he took a sip. Lucio leaned in again. Curiosity scrawled across his face.

“Yeah, sweet girl. In the Royal Air Force. I’ve served a couple of times with, absolutely fearless in the skies. Crack shot too.” He scratched the back of his head, “Her squadrons saved my squad more than a few times, danger close missions.” Glancing at Amari, “Y’know.”

She rolled her eyes, his penchant for reckless action hadn’t changed it seemed.

“I mean it, it’s like G forces don’t apply to her. That or she has a death wish. I’ve seen her take down multiple bogies in a span of seconds, heard the flight instructors are thoroughly impressed by her abilities but…A penchant for disobeying orders, although her intuition is usually accurate.”

Ana’s eyes narrowed, commenting nonchalantly. “Well…Another piece of the puzzle added to the collection.”

Lucio whistled, “Ace pilot and a bit of a Maverick. What’s she like?”

“Energetic. Like she’s always on five-hour energy’s.” He motioned with a hand, drinking. “Think the boys over in the air force call her—”

Ana finished the sentence, “The welsh corgi of the air force.”

His turn to snap his fingers. “Exactly, well I’ll be damned. What a coincidence.” Shrugging and attempting another round at the sandwich, a big bite. Cheeks bulging comically. Typical soldier.

The retired woman turned away, staring at the various paintings indiscriminately. Weighing the decision in her mind, the conversation from just a day ago ringing in her head. The pieces starting to fall in place. Ah heck… ”She may not be so different from our little blueberry.”

“I’m no mind reader, going to have to explain further, Amari.”

“I dropped by Fareeha’s girl’s workplace yesterday, under the pretence for a check-up.” Jack sniggered, “Shut up, Jack. Should be your duty as the godfather.” He scratched the side of his head, expression contorted upward, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort.

“Not a sniper, ain’t my thing to get the drop on everyone.”

“Anyway, Angela elaborated when I interrogated—No, not like that. Jack.” She added as he recoiled in horror, well aware of the various tactics the former medic and sniper often employed back in her service days. Following up quickly as his expression quirked cheekily, “Definitely NOT LIKE THAT, get your head out of the gutter, Morrison!” Huffing lightly, “AS I was saying…She has reason to believe Lena may have lost someone of importance to her as well.”

“Oh? I don’t get where we’re headed.” Lucio admittedly reluctantly, his expression mimicked Jack’s from earlier.

“Well...Some fall into deep depression and withdraw from the world, others try to conceal it. And if there’s guilt, well that can do many a thing to the mind.” Ana finished cryptically.

Understanding finally dawned upon, “…Ahh, right. Deathwish, huh?”

The trio glanced at each other, Morrison continued to eat. “Hmm. What an interesting girl. The more I think about it, Guillard’s widow could use a touch of her liveliness, might revive her somewhat. Stiff as a board, that one”

“Try getting into a ring with her. Might change your tune, real quick.” Ana chuckled, an idea dawned. Eyes growing wondrously wide. A small smile lighting up her features. Jack, all too familiar with. Something grand. “I think I just found my party destination.”

The two men exchanged glances, asking in unison. “Where?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think thus far.
> 
> You can tell where the story's leading no?


	10. Ima pinch a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Next chapter or the one after will finally see some real interaction between the main pair! I promise!
> 
> Thoughts on pacing and build up thus far?
> 
> We might have to perform a deadly reveal on their dirty lil secrets!
> 
> Let me know!

Collapsed into bed, events of the day passing by her eyes. Azure hair splayed out underneath. Streets, guests, their faces and desires. Not her problem. Brain running at full speed, body aching and in pain. She could tell, more sleep. Stealing a glance at her phone, quietly hoping for a response….Tonight, even as soon as she woke up.

Shaking her head, mind wandering for a second.

And suddenly, asleep.

Flapping its wings, a tiny cerulean butterfly landed on her forehead. Scuttling about, their eyes snapped open. Taking flight, departing for a new location, out a tiny crack between her timber sliding door.

She clambered onto her feet, slipping her naked feet into slippers. Giving chase, with tiny shuffles, hesitating before the full moon. Sudden onset of reluctance, merely observing its flight path into the lunar sky.

Classical music, nostalgic. Korsakov’s Shéhérazade, the day she had met him…

Her brown teased a frown, sauntering to the source. Her phone, an unfamiliar number.

Plucking up the device, tentative, inspecting it for a moment longer.

_Tap._

“Yes?” She answered quietly.

“Hey Guillard—”

_Tap_

Nope.

_ZZZTT_

_Tap_

“What.” The French ballerina hissed.

“That was rude.” Tone, curt. Uncompromising.

“I’m _hanging _up.” It didn’t work.

“Wait—wait! Alright, I’m sorry Lacroix.”

Amelie’s finger hesitated, raising the device up to her ear again. “…..Make it quick.”

“I have a proposal. Host my birthday party.”

Eyes narrowing sharply, heavy with sarcasm. “Yes, let me host a party for a woman who hates my guts. Splendid idea, Amari.”

“…I don’t hate you?”

“You do.”

“No, I resent you—Well, resented. That’s in the past for me.”

Accent thickening, emotional. “Liar…! If that was truly zhe case, You would not continue to taunt me about Gerard.”

A hitch in Ana’s voice, cautious. Tip-toeing, pacing slowed. “I admit…I do often remind your past, but as a reminder. Not as a taunt, not anymore.”

“…..”

“…..”

The faintest _Hmph_ escaped.

“Are we okay, Lacroix?”

Thankful, for audio only, were it not, the Egyptian would have made out her smouldering glare. Focused on a single point on the wall. “Peachy.”

“Can I continue? About my proposal that is.”

“Fine.”

“Right, you host my birthday party. I’ll invite the guests, drink, feast and all have a lovely time.”

The ballerina corrected curtly, “You mean, you and your friends, have a lovely time.”

“Are you not friends with my daughter? Her girlfriend will be there.”

A sharp hiss, “And why would I care if zhat, Ziegler girl is there.”

Chortling, the senior responded. “Did you not attempt to trade for her?”

Nostrils flared, sucking in a deep breath. “Zhat was just teasing your foolish daughter—”

“That’s not very nice, Lacroix. You know, it sounds like you’re my friend rather than hers.”

“I—”

The laughter returned, “I am kidding. I am aware our circumstances will likely never result in a proper friendship. But I’d like to remain cordial at least, if not for Fareeha’s sake. For Gerard’s.”

“…..F..Fine.”

“Good, so can I have my party—”

Amélie Lacroix snapped, for the first time in many years. “I still do not see where this benefits me!”

“I thought we could, out of the kindness of your heart~” The voice teased

“I hate you. Good bye.” With that, she yanked the device away from her ear, lowering it. Thumb ready to tap the giant red button.

“Lena Oxton will be there.”

She flinched, nearly dropping the device. Fumbling with it in mid-air, “Auh..!”

“You still there, Lacroix?”

Raising it back up to her ear, suspicious. Demanding, “Why do you think I care?!”

Again, with the infuriating laughter. Her knuckles turned white, gripping the phone. _Break—Just break already damn it._

“Because, if you didn’t. We wouldn’t be speaking still.”

The line went dead.

**…………………………**

Lowering the gadget, the cybernetic eye scrutinizing the touch screen. “Rude.” An indistinct smirk across her lips, striding into the kitchen. Lights blaring, daughter sat in the fine wooden seat, spooning cereal into her mouth messily.

“30 years, Fareeha. You still eat like a child.”  
  
“Mnnphpnm! Noph froo!” The hasty response, messy. Broad shoulders and well-defined muscles did not match the child-like expression.

Ana made a face, leaning away from. “Urgh…Yes, true.” Rounding behind the kitchen table and grasped the coffee pot, pouring herself a drink.

They flushed, cheeks burning. Swallowing and dabbing her mouth with a tissue, “So, what’d she say?”

“Said she hated me.”

“Oh.”

Like clockwork. _Ding!_

A text, she raised it to eye level with a smirk, satisfied. Flipping it around towards her daughter, “And that she’d host it.”

“And how do you plan to get Lena to come along?”

Brows lofted, “From the vines, I hear she’s quite a sweet girl. If I have the three of you pressure her, she’ll cave.”

“Three…of us? You don’t expect her to respond to Amélie, do you?”

“It turns out, I have a mutual with our dear corgi.”

Fareeha spooned in a large mouthful of the colourful cereal, sitting up at the announcement, expression puzzled. Looking at her mother, ”_Who?”_

“Your godfather.” The Egyptian jumped a little, “They apparently serve on the same base. Add in you two, our little friend wouldn’t dare turn down the opportunity to celebrate a sixty-eth. It’d be mighty rude of her, if she did.” Adding the end, heavy with sarcasm.

The dominatrix peered at doubtful, “If I were in her shoes, I’d make some shitty excuse.”

Ana shrugged, “I did what I could then, minus the Amari ambush.” Striding around, she joined her daughter at the table. “You must really like this, Angela.”

“…Yeah.”

“To go this far, just for her friend?”

Fareeha craned her neck to the side, massaging the respective trapezius and neck. “Well…That girl’s very sweet too. Always knows how to break the ice.”

“Mmm.” Ana sipped from the mug, brows raising as she peered at. “I’ve heard a great many things about her. Hope she doesn’t disappoint.”

A hand darted up, fingers waving at side to side. “Oh she won’t.” Fareeha chuckled, “If you ever meet her. A bit tomboyish, like yourself. Mom.”

That stole a smile. “Yet I can pull off a dress.”

“Oh, trust me. She has the figure for it.”

….

Pale blonde brows furrowed deeply, lips pushing forward into a pout. Three whole days. No reply!

Ever since Fareeha informed her of the older Amari’s birthday and plans, she had been frantically attempting to contact her friend. To no avail, none of them had any luck. Not even Ana’s special contact in the military base, or so they claimed. Less than four whole days remained, apparently the party could only go ahead with, Lena’s presence.

Why? They refused to reveal. The location a mystery to her as well. She found it odd that Lena had been invited as well, after all. They had no connection to the elder Amari, that she knew of at least.

She slammed the phone down, a little firmer than she liked. The clap drew the attention of the few colleagues that resided in the dining hall. Eyes winking shut, rolling an arm up into the air, other hand drawing over her shoulder kneading into the knot, having formed recently. This, a first in many moons.

Last time the woman hadn’t responded in under an hour, they fought over what television series to watch together. And that had lasted for a day.

Stabbing at the salad with a metal fork, cheek propped against a palm. Expression dark and stormy.

“Whoa—Who’s that?” A distant colleague exclaimed, catching the clinician’s attention. Peering over her shoulder, half a mind to yell at her colleague to be quiet. She bit back.

“Hana Song, duh. She’s crushing it in the ranked ladder in Korea.” Freckly and wiry haired, like steel wool. A young ginger going through placements. His companion shaved and clean cut. Were it not for the dense glasses and years of facial scarring from lack of proper care, a handsome fellow.

“No, the girl in her background. The passed out one, she looks pretty cute.”

“Her? Dunno, she arrived the night before, drunk as a skunk.”

Angela leapt up to her feet, storming over. The jolt of action shook the table in front, they whirled in time to catch her towering over. Her expression eerily wide. They yelped, clinging the phone to his chest. “M-Ma’am, j-just on on...”

They trailed off as she held up a hand, expression softening unnaturally quick. Disturbing more than anything else, “Did you say Hana Song? The professional video gamer?”

They nodded in unison, to her right, he scratched at his pimple ridden cheek and rubbed his chest, unnerved. “Y..Yeah, we…We’re huge fans, she’s great at League of Legends.”

“League of…Ah, I see, that video game she always talks about.”

They exchanged a quizzical glance. Ginger raising a finger, “Uhh…Ma’am?”

“Ah, allow me to elaborate, I went to the same high school as her. She was…Ahead of her class by a few years. Very intelligent”

Their eyes widened. Spluttering in disbelief, the woman had turned her attention to the device in hand, scrolling through many pictures. “Ah, here.”

Flipping the phone around, a class photo. Tapping to the youngest Asian. They leaned in, comparing between the devices. “Holy shit, she is so tiny!”

“Well…She was only 14 turning 15 at the time.”

The ginger’s expression frown deepened, leaning even closer. Till barely a ruler’s length apart. “Hey Gerald, isn’t--?” He pointed towards an individual, his friend leaned in. Eyes flashing with recognition.

“Holy shit, Jensen. Great eyes! She’s damn hot in this picture!”

Angela’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Whom are you talking about?”

“The tuffy brown haired girl, second row, third from the right!” Jensen tapped again, Angela reversed the instrument and inspected. “Lena? How—Was she the one you were fawning over, earlier?”

Gerald jolted in his seat, like a frightened lamb. His expression flushed, “N..No, j-just remarking that s-she was attractive l-like you, ma’am.”

Angela extended her hand forward, quirking a brow towards Jensen, “May I?”

He held the phone up gingerly, placing the opposite end at the tip of her fingers. Reluctant for flesh to meet. She offered a warm, gentle smile and nodded appreciatively.

Her suspicions true. The familiar Korean tapped away at her computer, it didn’t take a trained eye to notice the blatant skill difference between. Eyes gliding to the side, resting on the sleeping figure. Hazelnut hair that matched her doe-eyes. Pointy and wild, Lena Oxton.

That explained a few things. But raised subsequent questions.

“Uhm…May I request you help me?” She inquired to the duo, offering the phone back.

“S-Sure, of course. Anything for you ma’am” They replied in unison.

“I’ll be sure to extend your break for this favour, could you please redirect your website to the sign in page?” Angela smiled, palms sweating lightly. Circling around Gerald and taking a seat besides, at the head of the metal table. “I’d like to login.”

The wiry haired man set off quickly, scrolling and tapping away. Within seconds he offered the device back, observing as he spooned a mouthful of soup as she inserted the credentials.

“Ah, perfect! Uhmm…Lets see…” She paused, lithe digits tapping slowly, enunciating out loud. “Hey…Hana…Angela….here…Long…time….no…see….Hope….you…have…been…well!”

“Uhm…Doctor.…?” The closest male raised a finger hesitantly in the air.

“Yes?”

“There’s…a good chance that she won’t be able to see your message..”

“Oh…” Her expression drooped, lips pushing forward into a pout again. As quick as it had come, they brightened. “Oh, she replied!”

“What!?” They yelped unceremoniously, clambering up from their seat and rounded behind the far more experienced doctor. “Oh wow, she did!”

A finger appeared beside her, “She’s a moderator, no wonder! I’m jealous…”

A light chuckle escaped from, “Is that supposed to be something special?”

They shrugged, “Well…Not really but it shows that she has respect for you.”

The streamer turned to the camera, “Angela? You still there? Still trying to figure out twitch?” A light cackle escaped from the devious girl, “Its been so long, I’m doing well!” Her joy stymied briefly as she explained, “Oh, sorry guys. A high school friend just contacted me, she’s a mod…Lemme at her.”

Within seconds, her phone chatbox exploded into a frenzy of messages.

“Wait, don’t all spam her—She’s not great with computers!” Hana cried out, wincing. Shying away from the screen a little.

The same finger leaned forward, pressing into the chat boxes and scrolled left, returning to the original box. “Thank you!”

She tapped in a reply quickly, once again, speaking as she typed. They exchanged snickers, “Hey…still…here! Just…Wondering….is….That…Lena?”

It took a moment for the streamer to react, expression brightening. “Yeah! That’s Lena, she’s sleeping over—Think we went too hard last night, the Soju with Fried chicken and beer can do quite a bit of work if you’re unaccustomed to it. You should come visit some time, big time doctor!”

A smile teased her lips, tapping a response. “I…see…I….will….definitely….add….Korea….To….my….next….holiday…list!” She sent the message and tapped in an additional message, “Could….You….Please…Inform…Lena…..To…Respond…When…Possible….UK….Texts!”

The streamer went wide-eyed, reading the messages carefully, nodding along as she finished. “Sure thing!” A thumbs up, “Anything else? I can wake her ass up now, if you lik--”

“Five moree….minutes..!” The collapsed woman moaned, rolling onto her back. A few seconds later, quiet snoring.

That did it, the streamer giggled as did Angela. “Thank..you! Not….necessary….Just…Reply….By….tonight….Work…Now….Catch….You…Soon!”

A bubble blown, _POP! _“Laters, Angela. Take care!”

She offered the phone over her shoulder. “Thank you. I hope you will do the right thing and log out of my account.”

They nodded quickly, a few seconds later. Pointed to the top right corner, unfamiliar to her.

Satisfied, she patted herself off. “Now…Whom are you two shadowing? I will have a word with them, add an extra thirty to your break.”

Their expressions brightened, practically beaming.

With that, Angela went ahead to make amends for their services.

**…..**

Mon 9:45AM

_Lena, would you like to come to a party?_

_10:52AM_

_????_

_Tues 2:13PM_

_Lena…?_

_Is everything okay?_

_2:32PM_

_?!?!?!?_

_Wed 1:44PM_

_>: (_

_Q(^v^Q) If you don’t answer, I will punch you_

_:’(_

_5:32PM_

_Sorry! I was asleep and had a different SIM!_

_5:35PM_

_Would you like to come to a party? It is Fareeha’s Mom’s 60th birthday. On the 16th!_

_Oooh…..I dunno! I don’t know her, like at all!_

_Really? You saying no to a party?_

_I mean…It’d be kinda weird…I dunno anybody there_

_Can I bring others?_

_Let me ask!_

_5:45PM_

_Ana says, more the merrier! How many?_

_Just two more, Hana and her boyfriend if that’s o’rite! Who’s Ana?_

_Hana has a boyfriend? How lovely. I am curious to see how she’s been_

_Ana is Fareeha’s mom._

_Yay! I’ll let them know_

_Hana’s excited_

_What should I bring?_

_O…_

_Wait….Where is it at?_

_I’m not sure, let me ask_

_5:47PM_

_Lena? I’m very sorry._

_Hm? Why is that, Angie?!_

_Ana says if you don’t come, now that she has your address…._

_She’ll come for you._

_Yikes! How did she get my address?!_

_I think she was being serious…I…I…Kinda gave it to her._

_It was an innocent question!_

_Eh, she’s 60 years old, she’ll have to catch me first!_

_┌П┐(_ _►_ _˛_ _◄_ _’!)_

_And why wouldn’t I come?!_

_Well…._

_6:05PM_

_?!?!?!_

_Answwerererrrs!_

_It’s at Amélie’s…._

_Oh…Okay._

_…? Everything okay?_

_6:11PM_

_Hey, Angela. I think something came up, I probably can’t come_

_….._

_That’s a lie_

_You’re coming._

_No! Really! I have work on that day_

_Yes. That’s why you’re in Korea right now_

_Yeah, they stationed me here for a bit!_

_You’re a fucking horrible liar. I already know you applied for leave._

_Wot! HOW! That’s a lie, whoever told you is lying!_

_Jack Morrison. She’s Ana’s friend_

_6:17PM_

_Lena, don’t pretend you’re asleep or busy! IF YOU’RE IGNORING ME….!_

_But I really can’t come!_

_Fareeha’s mom is ex-special forces, a sniper._

_She really will come for you_

_She ambushed me at work._

_6:20PM_

_…Fine. I’ll come_

_What happened anyway? Why are you acting like this_

_…No reason, Amélie and I just don’t get along, is all!_

_You’ve told countless tales of winning over the many sceptics and souls at work_

_What makes her so different?_

_I don’t wanna talk about it! Nuh uh!_

_LeNa OXtoN!_

_Is that scary? I was hoping it would be._

_6:25PM_

_(/_ _ω＼)_

_What is that?_

_It’s a scared face! See, I’m covering my eyes!_

_…_

_It’s cute! Come on!_

_I’m being serious though, can you tell me why?_

_6:32PM_

_Sorry Angie, I’ll see you on the day._

_Please don’t bring this up again._

_Lena! We’ve been friends for nearly practically two decades!_

_What are you hiding?!_

_Read. 6:32PM_

Minutes ticked by. A hour.

Left on read.

Angela snarled, arms crossing on top of the bed she sat upon. Brows furrowed together. She had questions for Lacroix. And more importantly, a Lena to pinch.

Many, many, **MANY **times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to let me know!
> 
> P.S Phone scenes are fun, surprisingly


	11. Ain't no party without Amari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to write a silly Liara/Aria x FemShep story. Would anyone be interested? It won’t be longwinded like this. Just two chapters of build up before sexy times/fluff. Please do let me know, from what I’ve seen it isn’t too popular of a pairing on here, at least compared to years back!
> 
> Backdrop would be a silly bet snowballing into unfortunate circumstances that may or may not involve pet play/light BDSM for FemShep! All consensual maybe a bit dubious…Will vary on how I enjoy abusing one of my favourite characters of all time
> 
> Also, enjoy this chapter! It may be of varying quality due to sleep deprivation. But am quite happy with the ending. Look forward to the next, because we may finally get to see the beginning of a blossoming relationship! Or not. EHEHEHE  
…

“Don’t you do it! DON’T YOU DO IT!” Hana Song voice shrill from revulsion. Such dirty tactics, bordering on cheesy.

Lena met her gaze with a tiny devious smile. Thumb sliding to the left, a flash of light exploded from underneath the arena, Kirby fell with Zero Suit Samus still in its mouth. Another stock off, a Korean male hooted with laughter, clutching his tummy and wiping at the snail trail of tears, face flushed from the activity. Totally worth bringing an additional Switch.

“Dae-Hyun! Stop encouraging Lena to play like a noob!” Hana cursed at, slapping at man to her left. The significantly broader shoulders weathered the blows with ease but still recoiled up protectively.

“B..HAHAHA..But..Ohmytummy…Hah…..It’s too funny, how are you falling for it every time?” He turned his attention back to his switch, at a two-stock advantage, pressuring the girl back to her own. Lena set hers down with a smirk, exhausting all her lives in the process of exchanging.

A minute later, Dae-Hyun threw his arms up in the air, “VICTORY! Again.” He grinned at the glaring Korean, nostrils flaring dangerously, knowing full well, salty and bitter.

“AGAIN! Lena! NO MORE KIRBY!” She threw her arms up in the air, resetting the stage and extended the invites. Reaching over and pinched Lena on the arm, eliciting a light squeak from. Shooting her a glare in addition.

“Foiiiine…..” Her thumb darted about, hovering over Ness. Locking in.

Dae-Hyun exchanged a glance with Lena, just like how Hana sat sandwiched between them on the flight. They agreed to cooperate whilst the girl excused herself to the bathroom in the terminal. The match begun, they exchanged damage. Light.

Immediately Hana became suspicious, the actions too forced. Dae-Hyun being an experienced veteran in the professional scene should have never received such hits from a newbie. “You two—”

The hoax was up.

They whirled on her in game, Lena immediately resorted to the cheesiest method known to man. Spam.

All day. Every day.

Dae-Hyun pressured his girlfriend, their co-operation barely passable but effective. Hana bled a stock under a minute, brows crumpled together, her concentration sharpening. With each death, she improved, adapted. Lena obliterated in under a minute.

But the advantage too great in his favour, he triumphed. They high fived above the petite Korean’s head, expression. Unimpressed. Grumbling, “Jerks.”

Lena returned the Switch, “That’s enough o’ that for me. I don’t want Hana punching me in the tit later!”

“I’ll punch you there right now..” Expression stormy. Compelling her neighbour to cover up in mock horror.

“So...Tell me Lena, why were you so reluctant?”

“Wh—You were eavesdropping on me?!” Lena whirled on, the cheerful demeanour fading quick.

Dae-Hyun winced leaning away a little, instead striking up a conversation on refreshments with the stewardess. Hana unfazed, stared her equal down. “I did.”

“That’s incredibly rude!”

Sharp witted, “So is lying to your friends about how…” She raised both hands, index and middle fingers curling in the air. “Busy you are.”

Lena backed down, eyes gliding out the window. Staring into the clouds with a grunt.

“You didn’t answer the question, Lena. What’s wrong?”

Distant, a touch of hesitancy. “It’s…Nothing, just a girl there I di’nt want to see.”

“Why? Who?”

A wince tweaked around her cheek, “Just a friend of a friend. I don’t think she meant any harm, just unfortunate choice of words.”

“Does this individual have a name? Or are you going to continue tip toeing around until we accidentally make a mistake and end up in your line of sight too?” Hana felt a bubble of annoyance in her chest, as if being strung along.

“French woman, Amélie Lacroix. She’s a dominatrix y’know?”

Hana’s expression inscrutable, “Huh…How unexpected. For you to meet someone in that profession.”

“Not really, Angie’s girlfriend is a dominatrix too. Apparently, they’re pretty famous.”

She whistled, head bobbing a little. Then reacted, recoiling away from “Angela’s gay?! B-B-But, she went out with Genji!”

Dae-Hyun cut in, “Think that makes her bisexual, babe. Like you.”

Lena twisted her head to the mortified Korean slowly, “Wot! You’re bisexual?” She leaned in, inspecting closely. Brows quirking to the side her head tilted towards.

Hana grunted and palmed Lena in the head, none too lightly. Then whirling around and punched Dae-Hyun on the arm, “Shut up! I-It was just a onetime thing!”

The cheeky male waited for Hana to whirl around before mouthing, _“She had a crush on you!” _Motioning with his hands, a wide circle. _“Big one!”_

The spiky hair drew back as Lena drew her head back, staring at with a duckface and wide drawn eyes. Blinking. It said enough, Hana growled. Whipping around and wailing a flurry of blows against her boyfriend’s arm. Berating him in their native tongue, “YAH! PARK, YOU MUST HAVE A DEATH WISH.”

A smile graced her lips, turning back to the view outside.

“Dominatrix huh…Must be an interesting lifestyle.”

“Mm, very. She has a nickname apparently in the community, Widow-something.”

Dae-Hyun spluttered, the coca cola went up his nose. Coughing into his fist, “Wido…” He broke into a coughing fit, Hana stared at him sardonically. “Widowmaker?”

Lena didn’t bother, still staring at the window. The puffy white clouds drifted by, distant again “Yeah….That’s what Noah called her.”

The Korean duo bickered, their conversation a reserved buzz in the pilot’s ear.

“She’s famous, babe! How can—”

Hana leaned in, an insolent smirk on her cheeks. “Oh you like it when they whip you huh?” A dark chuckle followed, “Guess I know what you’re really into now, Dae-Hyun. Little pervert.”

Sheepish, he scratched the back of his head and grumbled. “Yeah..yeah..Like you can talk.” He leaned in close and whispered, she stiffened. An elbow launched into his rib, undisturbed, a hand crawled up her back and brushed the digits up the base of her skull and gripped a fistful, yanking backward. He applied a cheek peck.

“I’ll remember this, maybe I’ll buy a paddle. Next time you do something nice, I’ll let you kiss my feet.” Indignant, her cheeks flushed deeply, squirming out of his grasp and bumping Lena gently on the shoulder.

He rolled his eyes playfully, so cute when she tried to establish her dominance. The action only served to annoy her further. Their continued bickering did little to disturb the pilot, if anything it worked in her favour, a little time for peace and quiet.

Little did she know, a turning point.

….

Amélie Lacroix sat against the back of a wooden chair. Right leg crossed over her left at a 90-degree angle, tip of her right foot tapped the floor. Professionally dressed caterers hustled about as they set up the various furniture and equipment for the soiree, Fareeha lead the foray in her stead. The French woman merely observed, a satin black tie back cross front split maxi beach dress equipped, drawing more than just a few glances. Alluring were it not for the fact her expression remained contemptuous at best.

“Am I really paying for all of this?” The former ballerina demanded at the elder Amari, sat back drinking her expensive roast. Observing the staff bustle about in her party room, reserved for the sole purpose for celebration, maintained by the weekly maid services. A lengthy crescent bar table sat in front of a display cabinet with multiple bottles of exquisite alcohol, the walls to each side also lined with liquor

“Aw come on, LaCroix. Show some generosity for once.”

Their eyes narrowed dangerously, “Yes, it is not like I am letting you host your birthday party at MY mansion. With my alcohol” They continued bicker back and forth, eventually a peace fell between.

“You could kill yourself…….Sixty times over with the amount of alcohol in here.” She mused after a pause, scanning the walls.

As the DJ stand setup concluded, Fareeha jogged over to the French woman and offered a wide beam. “What do you think?”

“Why are you asking me, ask **her” **She jerked her head towards the only other woman of importance in the room. Offering an infuriating chuckle, she raised the mug up towards.

“Well done, Fareeha. This is perfect, I must say. You sure know your beans, LaCroix, will have to ask Lucio to inspect how to elevate this cup to the next level.”

The contempt in her voice dripping, revolted by the “You have already tainted them, what a barbaric method you have concocted to brew that drink.”

Ana blinked, shrugging. “What? I boiled it with a stove-top percolator. It’s how I always did it. It’s how Gerard did—”

“Urgh! Both of you, infuriating.” She twisted away, a wave of her hand. The extremities of her expression however softened, one she believed to be hidden from.

The former soldier suppressed the ghost of a smile creeping onto her features. “Who you trying to impress by the way, Amélie la séductrice”

“You butcher my language.” She replied stiffly, parting from the seat and striding past. “None of your business.” Departing from one of the many vast rooms in her home, thudded footsteps soon rumbled from above the Egyptian’s head.

“Heh…Even when we I’ve buried the hatchet, she continues to treat me like an enemy...What a girl.” Ana snickered, were it not for her age and history. She may have found the woman irresistible to pursue, a dance, breaking down their defences layer by layer. Until the vulnerable lady underneath in full display, for her alone. A game of cat and mouse

Fareeha stared at with a freakish expression. “Mom—You’re not—”

She shrugged, an eye winking shut, a devious touch to the humoured elder. “Relax, it’ll never happen. Ever. I’d be amazed if we could stand being in the same room together without anyone else.”

“….Yeah, okay…. I’ll give you pass on that thought though.” The junior grumbled, it wasn’t like she could be absolved of her own fantasies.

A sweet and pleasant chime rang from multiple sources, for the two ladies the nearest source came from the chamber behind.

“Our first guests have arrived.”

Fareeha darted off in the direction of the entrance, the most excited of the trio.

Ana failed to resist the growing smirk, despite her daughter’s age she still acted many years too young, at least in front of her. Remarking to herself, “Hard to believe men and women pay her to dominate them. Heh”

Half a minute later, two familiar faces popped into view. Jack Morrison and Lucio Dos Santos, the first of many of her comrade in arms, she invited them all. May as well have a birthday bash to remember, she reasoned.

“Holy shit, Gerard lived in here?” Morrison muttered out loud, “On a major’s salary? Christ...” He explored the sheer scope of the area, he offered a light up nod to Ana as he crossed the room. A gift tucked under his arms, Lucio trailed after, still in awe. “From both of us, happy birthday.”

Ana’s smirk equalled out into a broad grin, “Thanks for coming, Jack. Great to have ya here, just chuck it in the chamber behind, it’s where we’re storing all the gifts.” Rotating to the DJ, remaining propped against the wall herself and delivered a similar greeting, “Drinks and finger food over there, gents.” Indicating with her index finger gripping the mug, a lavish table had been erected with piles of expensive cuisine.

“Jesus…Who’s paying for all of it?” The gruff voice remarked.

Fareeha scratched the side of her head, commenting. “Hah…All of this is close to four months salary…”

“Only four months!? I’m in the wrong business…”

That quirked everyone’s brows, Fareeha leaned in with a pinch in her jaw. Joking, “Yeah? There’s a decent demand for the fit grandpa look.”

He shook his head, it slipped his mind that his god-daughter had a peculiar job.

The younger Egyptian added, “All of this, technically a week’s work for her, back she was in her prime.”

Lucio cackled and ambled off in direction of the lavish food.

“So, where is she?” He queried

“Upstairs, sulking.” Ana shrugged

“Should—”

“Nahh, leave her be. She’ll come back when ready.

Doorbell chiming again, a wide grin overtook Fareeha’s features. “Angela!” She ran towards the cause, arms out stretched. Like a loyal puppy.

They exchanged glances, Lucio blinked rapidly. The expression on her features as she passed by, ridiculous, snorting in laughter at first before sharing a chuckle with the others. Returning the group, popping in bruchetta of various toppings, his smile only broadened. Expensive.

“Angela the girlfriend?”

Ana nodded, “Sweet girl. Don’t get any ideas.”

Minute later they stepped in, Fareeha’s head popping into view like a puppy returning to its owner. A dumb grin over her features, pale hand appeared into view first gripping a napkin as it scrubbed furiously at the darker woman’s cheek. Her hand waved it away, revealing a deep rose lipstick mark. The doctor appeared into view, a light frown drawn. Angela froze mid-stride at the sight of the birthday girl, eyes wide. A flicker in their eyes, cheeks drawing up into a cheeky grin.

“Hello.”

Intensifying, Angela shuffled up and offering the neatly wrapped gift package. Eyes following the hand as it gestured behind with a jerk, smirk hidden by the mug of coffee.

“Toss it in there, sweetie.” She quirked a brow at Fareeha, as Angela shuffled by, daughter evidently concerned at the behaviour, suspicious of her mother. Whom raised a hand in air defensively but contrasted the action by lowering the mug ever so slightly, revealing the expression.

The woman glared daggers, pouting as she stomped by childishly after Angela.

Their light bickering only served to humour the elder further.

_Off to a great start._

……

Afternoon fell, numerous guests arrived in swathes, the party grew progressing from quiet conversation to multiple areas throughout the ground level of the mansion. Amélie remained firm, barring anyone from the third floor, the stairways leading to banded by tape.

She remained there, observing from above. Imperceptible as she camouflaged in the unlit background, with every passing hour, irritation growing. Their promise seemed unlikely from the beginning but now surely an impossibility.

Music distant from her location, the party room padded the brunt of the bass from the Brazilian’s playlist. Not her usual taste, the French woman admitted the beat, decent. Finger tapping gently when possible along to the progressive house.

Were it not for golden amber eyes, her existence forgotten amidst the festivities.

The doorbell rang, barely fazing. More _friends._

Voices distant. Amélie strained to distinguish the voices, rare accent. Korean, a pair. Followed by a native of the United Kingdom, cheerful, excited..? Lena!

Without realising it herself, she began scurrying down. Pausing as light shone onto a naked lilac calf, retreating.

Patience…If she spooked her now….

“Welcome! Welcome you are…? The familiar playful voice called out.

“Hana Song, nice to meet you! This is my boyfriend Dae-Hyun Park, we’re here for an…Ana Amari?”

“Of course, from Busan, Korea? I’m Ana.”

A brief pause

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sixty, must be exciting! And happy birthday of course—We bought sweets from our native country.” A male voice, pleasant and polite.

“Ahhh…When you get to my age, it becomes more depressing but I appreciate the thought, if you don’t mind, through the party room and head straight, a small chamber for the presents have been set up.”

“Here, Hana. Lena?”

Amelie stiffened, aware of her restrained breaths. Doing her utmost to remain unnoticed despite the considerable distance.

“I’ll see you two inside!” He called, drawing closer. Presumably sneakers, squeaking against her marble tiles. The door clicked open, music blasted through before quieting again.

An intermission, the playful voice lowered. Growing in husk, as if admiring. “You must be Lena, I’ve heard so much about you! From Dr. Ziegler of course, and my daughter. Fareeha, I believe?”

The reply perhaps hesitant, likely taken by surprise. “O—Oh! Uhmm…Hi Mrs. Amari! Blimey, for a sixty-year-old, you sure know how to party! I’m not underdressed, am I?” The voice bright, almost vibrant. Unlike the norm.

“Aww, aren’t you as sweet as they say…! Of course not dear, it’s come as you please.” The voice cooed, as if she were to lean close and give a gentle pinch on the cheek.

The door clicked shut, Amélie could visualize them now. Inside her mansion, lined up before. she stepped down and into view. Their gazes locked immediately, Lena’s brows shot up before trembling. Her gaze broke away to once-over her dress, conflicted before meeting again. Amélie felt her own glide to the side, breaking away. Heart racing.

Odd, she had wanted to see her again….

Yet the French woman found it irrefutably difficult to remain with their gazes locked. Her, of all people, unable to maintain eye contact? Ridiculous, she gripped the banister until her knuckles turned a shade lighter.

Ana flicked backward, a slight leer spread. Turning around in time to catch Hana staring up at, lips parted slightly in awe, “Ileon jenjang…” Cursing in her native tongue, infatuated.

“Come now ladies, shall we hit the dance floor? Right this way, there’s finger food and later we’ll be having barbeque and other scrumptious dishes, complimentary of our generous host.” She gestured towards the woman whom had frozen half way down the stairway before swinging the arms in the other direction, to the door that the male had strode through a mere minute before.

Ushering them in, the large cream white doors parting and shutting. The Egyptian remained behind, clicking it shut in front. Without turning back, “Losing your nerve, Guillard?”

“…..Do not push your luck, Amari. You were lucky.”

“I held up my end of the bargain, the rest is in your capable hands. I do hope that you will see it as a fair exchange.”

The sneer, quiet. “Yes, a couple of thousands of euros to meet with one woman. How reasonable…”

Wit, sharp as a needle. “Yet, you had men **AND **women willing to pay twice as much for a few hours. You even had them willing to kill.”

Temper flaring, “I thought we agreed—”

“I am just pointing out the hypocrisy.” Ana calmly interjected, “Are you willing to allow these thousands of dollars to be squandered so?” 

The maze of stairs and distance between the floor, barring the ballerina’s ability to leap down and throttle the woman where she stood. A silence fell between. The former soldier added quietly, “It is your money. Do with it as you wish, I have a party to enjoy.”

…

Unnerved by their meeting, the young pilot found herself distracted in the initial hour. Unable to ease herself even in the mass of dancing and sweating bodies. Not until she stumbled across the various familiar faces, including reuniting Hana with Angela, surprised to discover that the Egyptian’s godfather in fact a distant colleague from work.  


The noise levels at a comfortable booming falling just short of the various clubs she seldom frequented, surprising the woman at the resiliency of the fortress she stood in. Stumbling into a face she had anticipated from earlier to meet, calling out as their eyes met in the crowd before dragging him through to the edge of the mosh.

  
Jack Morrison exchanged pleasantries and conversation with, easing her mind. Even when the lilac beauty stepped into the room, capturing the vast majority’s attention at first. A flicker of recognition crossed his gaze, picking up on it immediately. Calling out amidst the beats, “You know her?”

“Of course. She…is a close acquaintance” His deep-toned voice carried well through, “Friends in the past. A hint of remorse, switching the plastic cup to his other hand to scratch at his temple. “We…. Parted on strange terms.”

“Oh…”

“She’s a good lass, Lena.” He finished, scanning the room before hesitating. Leaning in close as they bounced lightly, “I heard you took leave.”

A upsurge of discomfiture, she could only mimic his action. “Yeah…I just needed some time off, is all!”

The sapphire eyes shot her a concerned guise but said nothing. Instead he patted her firmly on the shoulder, “I look forward to your return, may you continue to act as our guardian corgi in the skies.”

That earned him a punch on the shoulder, not like she could reach much higher compared to, demanding to know where he came up with such a ludicrous idea. Fareeha and her friends. Of course, she rolled her eyes light-heartedly.

“YO! LISTEN UP, LISTEN UP!” An animated voice boomed across the speakers, drawing the duo’s attention along with the crowd. Towards the DJ booth propped on the makeshift stage, “As all of you know, we’re here to celebrate Ana Amari’s birthday, turning sixty y’all!” He clapped his hands together thrice, before beckoning for the crowd to raise the stakes.

The cheers, deafening.

“That’s more like it! Now make some noiiiiissseeeeee! For the birthday girl!” He amped up as Ana leapt onto stage, passing the mic over to her. The mob exploded into cheers and hoots, in response, raising both arms into the air with a large grin and repeatedly thanked them for coming.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you….I truly appreciate all of you taking the time out of your busy days.” Her dark mocha eyes washed over the crowd, picking out multiple individuals from the crowd. “To come celebrate my birthday, I am truly honoured to have known each and everyone of you throughout the various times of my life and to be here sharing this moment with you all. From back in high school!” She raised her goblet towards the left of the room.

“WOOOO, HURRICANE AMARI!” A stray voice called out, sparking an audible hilarity in their section. The Egyptian waved a hand as if slapping down the nickname with a chuckle herself.

“And university!” Turning to the rest of the room.

In unison, voices hollered, “AIN’T NO PARTY WITHOUT AMARI!” Sparking another wave of boisterous activity.

“Finally…To my comrades, my brothers and sisters in arms!” Raising again, a final time, addressing the entire room. To the distinct merriment of the room, eyes locking meaningfully onto someone in the crowd.

“TO GOOD FOOD!”

“AYY!”

“TO GOOD DRINK!”

“AYEEE!”

“AND TO THE BEST FUCKING COMPANY IN THE WORLD!”

“WOOOOOO!”

“This calls for a proper toast! Champagne! Where is it?!” Ana broke away, scanning the crowd, searching for the bottles amidst the roaring and thumping cheers.

Nobody came forth.

“AH! That’s right, we left them chilling in the patio out back!” Clutching her tummy as she cackled, “Dearie me, either it’s the alcohol or I really am turning senile! LENA!” Bellowing the latter’s name out, searching the mob—Locking onto her with a meaningful wink, “Be a dear and fetch the bottles, pronto! Through the back and to the left, just keep going straight and you’ll find the door! An agile girl like you could have it back in no time!”

Playing along, she offered a cheerful grin and salute. The crowd searched for the source of her voice,“Aye aye, ma’am!” Swinging her arms to the side animatedly before bolting towards the door, weaving through the small path formed by.

“Excellent! Now, until her return….! LET THE PARTY GO ON!” She cheered, tossing the device towards her friend before downing the drink in hand. As the goblet lowered, her gaze locked with the individual in the back of the room. A playful wink innocent to the rest before melting back into the crowd.

Mischievous and meaningful to another.

_Don’t you dare waste this opportunity……Lacroix!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b' v'b - Double thumbs up baby


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99.5% sure that my quality just nose dives when word count exceeds 2,000 xD
> 
> Well...I tried!
> 
> Please enjoy?

Lena zipped through, practically barrelling through the door. The music continued to blast through the door, fading swiftly as she reached across the entrance hall, repeating the action as she hopped on her lead foot, braking and throwing her weight towards the left. Leisurelier

The scenery familiar, the room she slept in. She jogged at a gentle pace, practically walking as she explored the other end. Fireplace empty, spotless of ash or any sign of use. A frown graced her features, but it didn’t last as she paused in front of the wooden framed door leading to the spacious greenery out back.

Grasping the intricately decorated knob, turning it and pushed—Resistance. Pulling, parting for her to pass through. A cool breeze greeted, Lena glanced about under the dim lighting sourced by the room behind. Three metal buckets propped on stands, each filled with two bottles sat between the four patio recliners, the frown returned, it’d require two trips.

_Click. _

The door behind her shut, the spiky hair bobbed as her head dipped before bouncing up. Whirling around with a big grin, “Some help? Appreciat…..e….it.”

The grin faded, replaced with a faint wince.

A graceful figure stood before, a lengthy leg bent visible through the cut of the dress. Their head bowed down off to the side, gaze aloof and cheeks glowing. ”Ahrmmemm.” Amélie Lacroix cleared her throat, their hands held behind, likely still clinging to the knobs.

“Oh….Hello.” Lena voice barely a grumble, limbs growing stiff. Eyes scanning off to the side, searching for an alternative route.

“Wait.” The voice hasty, alien. But stemmed from the lilac coloured woman, hesitating as she reflected on the noise. “I…I wanted to apologise.”

Lena shuffled to the left, fidgeting with her fingers. Amélie mirrored the action, intercepting. Reply brusque, stomach suddenly empty as a haze of exasperation rolled over her mind. “You already did.” Desperate to escape.

Retorting, “That was hardly an apology. Closer to….to..a formality.”

“It’s fine.” She insisted, taking another step.

“Then why are you trying to flee?” Amélie’s butterscotch golden eyes snapped onto, locking to her eyes.

The younger woman froze, eyes narrowing. Her chest squeezed tightly, muttering under her breath, challenged the rich aristocratic woman, softly. The urge from earlier fading, ugly head of retribution readying. “You wouldn’t understand…”

“I think I do.”

Hazelnut eyes met the amber honeyed, “Doubt—"

“My husband. Five years ago.”

Seconds passed by before Lena dismissed with a wave of her hand, turning around and leant against the thick railing. Shaking her head in disbelief, stiff. Perhaps a mistake. “I’m sorry for your loss but It’s not the same.”

Amélie remained rooted where she stood, “Murdered indirectly.” The head turned towards fractionally, the distant nut coloured irises within line of sight. Adding, “By me.” They broadened from astonishment.

Short lived, they furrowed deeply. An uncomfortable silence settled, hesitant to continue but curious, “….How?”

“Can we…Can we sit down?” She parted to the side, exposing the exit. Arms gesturing to the recliners however. Their gaze drilled into the side of the pilot’s head, whom returned it, lingering for a fraction of a second.

They searched the paths, taking a step towards the exit but an unknown force shoved her in the chest. Puzzled at first, their eyes stole another glance as if suspecting the woman possessing supernatural abilities at first.

Desperation. They held the same look, hinting at a bond forged through misery, guilt and death. Far from kindred spirits, if anything they were like alter egos to each other on the exterior.

But…_High school._

Was she so different? Perhaps…Not by much.

Tentatively shuffling over to a patio seat, kneeling into it before swinging her legs around and onto her butt. The French woman’s shoulders relaxed impossibly so, her impeccable posture hadn’t indicated any form of stress.

It caught the British fighter pilot by surprise. It must’ve shown on her expression as the woman sat across, almost pouting at. “W..What? I can feel discomfort too…” Their arms crossed defensively, shrinking their stance.

“Wow, colour me surprised blueberry.” A lively voice interrupted, the silver mane appeared into view as their head poked through, the patio door…How?! When!?

The French woman’s eyes narrowed dangerously, upper lip drawing back into a lite snarl. An audible puff of air escaping

Lena yelped and nearly tumbled off her chair. “Wha—When did—OH THE DRINKS!”

The former soldier uncrossed an arm and held her hand up. Commanding, “Let me.”

“But you—” She froze mid-way to the buckets.

The voice turned gentle, as if addressing a worried child. “Let me, Lena. Consider it my apology for interrupting something…_Important_.” Their glance flicked to the snarler, “You two seem like you need to talk. Wouldn’t want to bring the party down together, would you?” She teased, patting the girl on the arm, winking.

The adorable pilot’s doe eyes tapering into a tiny frown, pouting lightly. Withdrawing slightly, reserved. “No…I suppose not.”

The mother’s expression softened, “Have a seat then, Lena. I’ll see you soon.” She guided the woman back to the seat, plucking the bottles of expensive alcohol out, two at a time before whirling on Lacroix, practically sauntering past. Their eyes met, sliding smoothly as she drew closer and past, mouthing, “_It’s your turn now. Lacroix.”_

A perplexed expression returned, their gazes snapped off as they retrieved two more. Pausing in front of the door she had entered just moments ago, “Y’know, Lacroix. You were fun…. When you were full of smiles and laughter.”

With that, the door shut again, _silently._

“Full of smiles and laughter?” Lena echoed, a cheeky smirk tugged at her lips, gesturing at with a finger. “You?”

Amélie turned her withering glare usually reserved for the elder Amari woman. It silenced the girl briefly, serving to fuel her humour. Flaring her irritation further—Oh what the hell, she withdrew and rolled her eyes. They had earned this much at least.

Together in moderate peace as Lena composed herself. The act, a disarming effect. Viewing her in a different light, less intimidating and controlled. Human, almost.

Without warning, the solemn demeanour returned as she recovered. “Aahh…. Well let’s hear it then..”

Inclining her head, she began, “You have heard of my moniker, non…?**”**

Throughout the account, Lena retained a relatively stony face, certain pivotal points elicited a quiver of their lower lip or a wince, particularly the multiple accounts of Ana’s involvement, however she discovered a growing respect for the birthday girl as it progressed. But more importantly, empathy and envy for the woman before, having personally suffered longer, Amélie’s circumstances unique. In a way, she could observe the guilt, thicker, nearly all consuming.

But during the recount, Lena noticed small fragments of her past. Even now, she held great beauty and grace, present manner only served to highlight the chilling and mysterious past. The young British woman found herself enamoured by the woman of the past however, vibrant and compassionate, approachable.

And that the most alarming of all. For a fraction of a second, she wished for nothing more than to be held in their embrace. To have her to herself, a world where they could dance together in an everlasting tango.

Lena admitted her own past could have been avoided if she had been more cautious and firmer with. She felt her attention drift away, towards the tip of a European ash. But…To have personally caused the death of your own lover not due to your own carelessness but through passion.

Amélie interjected harshly, as if wounded. “Don’t. Remove that look from your expression, right now.”

Lena snapped back to attention, “Huh? What are you talking—”

“That look, I’ve…I’ve seen it before. You….You think it….w..wasn’t more fault, don’t you..?” Hesitant, speech quaking throughout. Their countenance pained, chest rising as she sucked in a shaky breath.

“Y…Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Fareeha, zhat girl…” Her accent thickened, sentiments rising. “She believes the same thing…”

Lena leapt to her feet, swiping the air with a hand, crying out indignantly. She felt offended and conflicted, “And what’s wrong with that?!”

“…Do you really think that I’m not to blame? That I wasn’t…Careless?”

“Of course not! It’s your job ain’t it!? A transaction! They paid for---For...a…Uhm…Pleasure!”

“It…It’s not that simple, Lena…I was her dom…dominatrix” Amélie choked on the word, “I was…Was able to peer into their most intimate desires. I could see them at their weakest, exposed. I should’ve seen it…The lust, th…the thought. Why didn’t I?”

The woman fidgeted, tapping her feet gently against the tile. Unable to answer, her own irritation subsiding. Grumbling a reply, “I..I dunno..” Sitting down as she did.

“…See? How…How can I say I am absolved” A dry smile cracked their lips, pinching their forehead between thumb and forefinger, staring into her lilac palm. “…Because I probably did, but ignored it. She was so charming…Upbeat…Not unlike yourself.” Shoulders Stiffened, a gasp escaped, realising what she had said. Amélie peeked above the palm, half expecting the brit to be staring at her in revulsion or horror.

Instead, a light blush and self-conscious smile. Elbow pointed up into the ceiling, as she scratched the back of her head.

They spoke in unison

“A..Aww thank—”

“Oh god, I didn’t mean it like tha--!”

They froze mid-sentence, staring at each other. Amélie’s mien rosy. A single opinion taken opposite directions. A single event in their lives, different outcomes.

Lena broke the tension, hooting a little. Cute, the French woman still possessed the traits that she found herself drawn to. “Relax…I know you didn’t mean to compare me to a” Her face darkened and she raised both hands into the air, fingers wriggling wildly. “Crazy psychopath killer!” She added quickly, quirking a brow at, “But who knows, maybe I secretly may be! Angela might be my next target! Maybe even you…!”

Their shoulders relaxing, Amélie found herself snickering delicately. So silly….

“Did it work though? What Ms. Amari did.”

The former ballerina and dominatrix found herself shifting uncomfortably, reluctant to answer. “Kind…of? I…I’ll admit for the longest time, even until now…I thought it was just her way of taking out her anger against me. And…And punishing myself. But after..Today…I’m not so sure myself.”

“After today? Wot changed?!”

“..Earlier. The past few days..She said something to me. Y..You wouldn’t understand.”

Lena leaned in, curiosity piqued, their faces a few inches apart. From this close, she still failed to notice any perceptible flaws to their features. Even the pores across the pointed nose impeccable. “Can ya tell me?”

“It’s your turn now. That was it, all she mouthed to me.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

Amélie suppressed a giggle, pointing at with the back of her hand exposed to the ceiling. “See? I told you.”

Lena stood up proudly, a pout formed on her lips. Fists clenched and rested on each hip, “I wanna find out! No, I will try it!” That took the woman across from by surprise, they raised both limbs into the air and waved it in front.

“I-I don’t recommend it, Lena. She is—Was former special forces, even if you tried—She’d take you apart in seconds.”

Lena unfazed, “Yeah?! Well, I ain’t a civilian like you Amélie, I was trained in a bit of Hand to hand myself, I can hold my own pretty well! Plus she’s like what? Sixty now!”

That sparked a gentle smile on her lips, she challenged, “Hm? Are you so sure, Lena Oxton of the Royal Air Force of England?”

“Yeah! O’Course I can do it, try me! Wanna bet on it?!”

The smile widened, their expression mystifying into an impossible good-natured sneer. “Gladly. Why don’t I be your guinea pig? If you can beat me, I’ll personally set it up.”

Brows shot up, alarmed by the proposal. “Y..You mean, me against you? Gee, I don’t know Miss dominatrix! It feels like a free meal to me! Ya sure you can handle me?”

Amélie rose to her full height, invigorated by the attitude. A once over the shorter brit. Smirking, “Without breaking a sweat, dear Lena.”

They raised their fists up, stabbing the air with her fists. “Bring it on then, Frenchie! Blimey I can’t wait to put you in your place…”

The ballerina side stepped past, gesturing with a slim arm. “Follow me then.”

Departing for a land unknown.

**“**Bloody hell…This mansion has everything!” They remarked in disbelief, glancing about at the immense hall, lined with various gym pieces, including Stair-steppers, stationary bikes, treadmills, exercise mats and elliptical trainers. In the centre of it all, a square boxing ring, similar to the regulations from her base. “How many flights of stairs did we descend?! Three?! The ceiling is so high!”

Amélie shrugged, “More or less I suppose. Gerard insisted we install a gym and ring.” They paused, allowing the brit to bump into her. Remarking amusingly, “I wanted a home theatre.” Proceeding to a corner, whilst Lena continued to glance about, inspecting various machines.

“The hell! You have a vending machine here too!?” She called over, banging the glass with a knuckle twice. “What’d you steal a gym or something?!” Pressing in a button—A drink dispensed. “Whoa! Neat…Free drink!”

A chuckle rang out, the French woman clutched her tummy, head shaking in disbelief. How ridiculous this girl…Truly an anthropomorphised Corgi, so happy, intelligent, stubborn and playful. _An adorable little troublemaker._

“W—What!”

“I..Hahaha..I can see it…Haha! The corgi nickname, it makes…It makes too much sense.” They wiped at their eye as they rushed over.

“A-Am not!” They whined, cracking the soda open and taking a sip. It calmed them down for a mere split second, setting the drink on the steps up to the ring. “But yeah! Come on! Let’s get this show on the road.”

Turning around, she held two pairs of gloves in the air. “As you wish, take your pick.”

Lena glanced between the gloves, 8 oz padded gloves and…A smaller pair, the padding thinner and offered an attached thumb hole. Reaching toward the thicker padded pair, interrupted by a slightly snark remark.

“Trying to take it easy on me, Oxton? You may regret it later.”

The hand snatched at the thinner pair, equipping them hastily “The heck are these?! Ah whatever, your funeral love!”

Amélie snorted, desperately suppressing her amusement. She tossed the thicker gloves to the side and equipped her own matching pair. Pink—Yes, pink. A couples pair.

Lena scoffed at.

“It will only serve to further your humiliation.” Stated, grasping the top rope and climbing onto the stage, slipping between the ropes and jigged, feet dancing in light circles as she backed into her corner, digits work expertly to tie her loose hair into a tight ponytail.

Like her training in the military, direct. She climbed into the ring, underneath the bottom rope and picked herself up. Dusting off before assuming her stance, raising both gloves up as normal. She realised something now, they offered less protection for both her opponent and self.

“Ready when you are!” The voice called out, upbeat.

Amélie responded by darting forward with unnatural speed, lengthy dress trailing in the air behind taking the pilot by surprise. A jab launched towards their nose, recoiling backward.

The pilot responded swiftly, she bounced back with a flurry of blows as she attempted to regain the initiative and momentum. Agile and quick as her build revealed, outpacing the French woman, jabs, straights and uppercuts all whiffed by harmlessly as the ballerina practically twirled away from.

Mounting frustration eventually took grip, Lena charged forward weaving side to side to trap her in a corner. Side stepping alongside the retreating dancer, cornering in the process. “Gotcha.” She grinned wolfishly, a jab masked her clinch attempt. Pulling the tall woman down her level, hesitating as she lowered both hands, protecting the face. Instead, she launched a hook at her jaw, an arm intercepted the blow and wrapped around, seizing the elbow painfully. “Arghh!” Leaning away from.

A leg swept her feet out from underneath, sending the girl plummeting into the canvas. Circling away from and peered down at, their features upside down. Lena clambered up to her feet, demanding, “What the hell was that?! That ain’t boxing!”

“That. Was mixed martial arts, Lena. These…” She raised a hand up and gestured at it with the other, “Are MMA gloves. Elbows, knees, throws and grapples are all allowed” A smirk graced her features, returning it from earlier.

“Oh is that how it is?! Well! Don’t blame me if you get hurt…HIYAH!” The woman leapt in the air comically with a flying kick, only for it to be side stepped and an arm clotheslined her in the crotch.

_BAM!_

The canvas greeted her skull again. “Wot the…”

“I am lacking something witty to say.” The hefty accent teased, taunting with a finger waggle.

“Why you…!” Lena climbed to her feet, expression serious. Covering up as she protected her front, inching close to.

Jab, jab…Hook!

Amélie weaved and bobbed, unimpressed. Lena had speed but compared to Amari, her blows might as well have been in slow motion. Catching the girl in the face with a jab to the cheek, head snapping back. Surprised at her own adeptness at the bout. Missing the opportunity to capitalize. “Huh…Well I’ll be…”

The pace ramped up, blow after blow she out-boxed the pilot with surprising ease. To their evident distress, their punches growing wild, kicks awkward, unpractised. A particularly sharp blow caught her solar plexus, crumpling into a heap. Lena anticipated reprieve—Right, MMA.

Amélie on top of her like a leopard after its prey, an exposed arm trapped in an arm bar. To Lena’s evident surprise, squealing as pain shot up their arm, they hesitated for a moment, their scent—Sweet, alluring something unnatural before a new line of agony shot up snapped her back to reality. “AHHHH!” She clutched the ankle that pressed down on her neck.

“Submit, little lamb!”

“Neve—OKAY OKAY!” She tapped the glove against rapidly. The pressure against her elbow vanished, a parting gift throbbed in its wake.

Within a split second the French woman popped into view. “Well..I hope I’ve made it clear that Ana Amari is not one you wish to trifle with.”

Lena groaned and clutched the elbow, rubbing gingerly at it with a pout. “Y..You bloody lied to me! You never said you trained in MMA!”

“I did not and I have not.” She swiftly countered, “That was just years of Ana decimating me. **Repeatedly.”**

Climbing back onto her feet, they hobbled over to the ropes and sat against a strand, pouting. “Okay…Okay…you’ve made your point…” She massaged the joint for a short minute, pondering as the woman circled the arena.

“That it?” She queried, coming off almost like a taunt.

Lena’s brows furrowed, “Nope! No way! If I stop here, you’ll hold this above my head for the rest of my life!” Bouncing against the rope and onto her feet. “Again! I won’t be satisfied until I get a nice blow in!”

Amélie smirked, bending by the hip and beckoned suggestively. “_Bring it.”_

The pilot rushed forward, seizing the initiative. Exchange of blows however remained the same, with every attack she launched…A new bruise and welt appeared over her body. Total domination.

By the end of the second bout, every inch of her body felt bruised and battered. Just laying on top of the rather soft canvas hurt, a long drawn out groan escaped. “Ugugggrghh….Not…ONCE!” Still in disbelief that she hadn’t managed to land one decent blow against her, not even a tackle worked. Resulted only in the beauty straddling her and working her like a bag. Merciless.

Amélie merely relaxed against the ropes, arms parted out, leaning against it lightly. Content with her handiwork, “Never thought I’d say this…But you’re almost as tenacious as Fareeha. Perhaps you two might be a decent match.” Truthfully, she felt barely warmed up but content nevertheless, a strangely odd sensation. Unlike her matches with Ana Amari.

“Well…Can’t say I’m surprised that I found you two in here.” The familiar voice called out, evidently humoured by the sight. Features flushed from alcohol but any evidence in her physical actions, lacking.

“Ana…” Amélie bounced onto her feet, observing with narrow eyes.

“Hello!” Greeting pleasantly, “Figured to check up on you two.” Their gaze fixated on Lena, pausing by the edge of the ring before addressing Amelie with her mocha eyes. “You really did a number on her.” The goblet appeared into view, taking a tiny sip from whilst beckoning for the crumpled woman to come close. “We’re cutting the cake soon, I expect you two to be there before then.”

Lena slugged over, literally. The sight crinkled the edges of the elder’s eyes, amused. Rear in the air as they paused before her.

Ana leaned in close, whispering into her ear. It drew Amélie’s suspicion, urging her to bounce onto her feet. But she dared not to interrupt.

The pilot’s eyes grew wide, exchanging a glance with. A wink followed from the Egyptian, followed by a barely suppressed giggle. Whatever exchanged, lit a spark in the younger woman, invigorating.

Without another word, the woman ambled back to the stairs. Raising the goblet, toasting.

As soon as they disappeared out of line of sight, Lena leaped onto her feet. “One more round! Before then!”

“What did she say?” Amélie interrogated, sauntering close. The brit boxed the air, seemingly revitalized.

“Only if you promise one more round!”

“Fine.” The response curt.

Lena leaned in, beckoning. “Raise your arms first though!”

Amélie complied hesitantly. The lips drew closer, from the corner of her eye she saw a finger beckon for her to lean closer. She did

Their lips met—

A gentle pressure bumped her knuckle

_Merde._

Lena torqued her body to the side, knees leading, breaking the kiss off and drove with all her weight into the French woman’s tummy. The blow sank in satisfyingly, they had dropped their defences and received the full brunt, winding.

Amélie’s eyes bulged, the light sweat on her back shook off. Doubling over to the side of the fist, knees turning to putty. Their ponytail trailed in the air as she crumpled to the ground, side of the head smacking the floor audibly.

Climbing onto the woman’s side, rolling her onto her front and plopped down on their back, quickly grasping the arms and throwing them over her thighs. Like she had seen many times on television, reaching forward and grasping the tapered chin with both hands and yanked back firmly. The raspy breathes like music to her ears.

“My victory! Go on! Say it! Do that thingy…Submit, yeah that!” She cried out excitedly.

“You…huua….cheated….Huuaggh…!” The French woman rasped, squirming in their grasp weak, before slumping helplessly against.

Lena felt a surge of pride, a nearly intoxicating concoction served along with her victory. She could get used to this…Renewing the chinlock, applying more pressure, experiencing the woman’s tragic struggle, grinding against her back as she gleefully jeered. A quick double tap to the bottom of her thigh signalled the end.

She released the chinlock and…Rolled off to the side, exhausted.

The duo laid there for a minute, recuperating. Lena’s chest heaving up and down, all an act to bait Amélie, as the elder had instructed.

Amélie nursed her stomach with a wince, mentally noting to repackage her gift with horse manure.

Lena, the first to speak, calling up to the ceiling. “So…This is what it’s like? For five years?”

“Six, now.”

“….Did it help? Is this what it’s supposed to feel like every time?”

Amélie propped herself up with both hands, staring down into the canvas, sweat dripping from her brow. Rolling onto her butt and propped a knee up and rested her elbow against, their expression confused. “I…I think so.”

Lena addressed her with a mirrored expression, “Huh?”

“…I think I remembered something.”

“Whaddya mean?”

Amélie opened her mouth to speak but found it difficult to vocalise. Wrestling with herself internally before triumphing. “The…The second month, that Egyptian bitc—” Her eyes squeezed shut, shaking side to side. “Ana. She said to me, the past is to be remembered. Not to be lingered on. I think I get it now.”

The pilot ogled, awaiting the epiphany from.

The French woman offered a clashed smile, “Yeah…She wanted to me to realise…No matter how prepared or cautious you think you are…Sometimes, it isn’t enough. Learn from it…” She hit her forehead with a palm and rotated it into, shoulders bobbing as she mused bittersweetly. “Ana forgave me a long time ago….I needed to forgive myself.” They paused before adding, golden amber eyes addressed.

“_You_ need to forgive yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :<. I suck at writing emotional scenes, please send help.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter.
> 
> I wrote a fun Mass Effect Fanfiction, please check it out? :3
> 
> Honestly this seems all a touch forced and that peeves me. Also might be a decent conclusion for their chapter...
> 
> Conflicted here D:

Crescendo of the evening, the deluxe hazelnut chocolate cake. Deeply rich, velvety, undercut by a faint bitterness of cocoa spread evenly throughout the various layers. The pair arrived in time for the melody celebrating Ana Amari’s date of birth, freshly showered and garbed in new wear,

Lena Oxton in a slightly too large plain white t-shirt and baggy sky-blue knee-cut jeans. Amélie Lacroix joined her shortly after in black skinny pants and shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Sharing a greeting before joining in with the festivities, the French woman however maintained her distance, content to share polite conversation with whomever dared approach as she stared out a window, mind mulling over the events of the evening.

The evening concluded an hour after the peak of midnight, adults retired in their respective droves, some citing age, others for various reasons including work. Amélie stood guard at the doorway, bidding the various guests farewell rather pleasantly, to their surprise the host turned to be an agreeable lady.

She peered into the party hall, the floor a mess with crumbs, plates and cups. Only notable individuals remained, the two Koreans their names slipped her mind but the rest…A first name basis. Almost.

They conversed among themselves as they idly cleared the mess up, Ana pleasantly buzzed but still level-headed. Utilized her foot to corner pieces of rubbish, building a pile of her own as she conversed with Jack and Lucio. Amélie approached, perhaps anxious but the action seemed hurried, the elder Amari transfixed their gaze on her. Eyes twinkling mischievously, by habit she felt a snarl grow in her throat.

Everyone observed silently, daring not to interrupt. Nostrils flared but she fought the habitual urge to strike, forehead wrinkling for a split second. Amélie strode past and beckoned, “Come with me.” Pausing mid-stride to glance over her shoulder, only Ana displayed any indication of trailing after.

She spoke sharply, practically snapped. “All of you!” Cursing silently, that was harsher than intended.

They complied, entering the chamber reserved for gifts, coming to a halt in the middle of the room on top of the fine Persian rug. “What’s up buttercup?” Ana inquired curiously, for the first time in many years, unsure to the rather predictable woman’s motive.

“Don’t call me zhat!” Amélie hissed, she stormed off into a corner. The lavishly decorated room seemed to be out of place in décor comparatively, reminiscent of a classic English study room design with fine wooden merlot desks, bookshelves and couches. Voice measured, focused on the contraption in front of. “Please..Make yourselves at home in here.”

Again, they complied. Lena leapt into a couch and flopped out happily, Angela sat on the arm rest beside. They settled into quiet conversation until a quiet clunk snapped their attention back to the French woman.

The young Egyptian possessed a puzzled expression as she observed the ballerina’s intense focus shift, softening as they stared into the source of the noise, the faintest content hum elicited from.

They reached in and retrieved a bottle, nearly circular in shape, tapering off at the top and bottom. Into the nose of a flask and flattening respectively. The front and back of the glass sunk into a gentle dip with delicate picturesque protrusions of the brand in each bend, the sides offered little flanges designed to facilitate a better grasp. Amélie stared at it longingly, as if it were her own babe, up righting herself slowly.

Ana failed to suppress the gasp escaping her throat, alarmed at the sight. Eyes darting rapidly back and forth between, “What are you doing, Amélie?”

Pivoted back to the group, she took a single step forward. Refusing to break contact with the bottle, thumbing its properties gently. With visible effort, she met the shocked gaze. “…Remembering the past and not lingering.” Offered a sombre smile and extended the bottle towards, “Take it. I don’t need it anymore.”

“I…I gave that to you for your anniversary. With…” Their voice choked, wobbling dangerously. Jack’s arm reached out and seized the woman carefully to seat her on the armrest of his couch, remaining silent as did the rest. Attempting to piece the puzzle together.

“Gerard. Yes…W..We promised to share it with our most int…intimate family and friends. For a special occasion.” Amélie’s voice waivered, “…You were our—His…Friend.” She froze before nodding at Jack Morrison, his brows lofted, touched by the faint gesture.

“I can’t.” The Egyptian declined, wrenching away. Lips thinning, she wrung her hands. “It wouldn’t be right, a gift to you. You should keep it.”

Amélie hesitated, lowering the intricate glass shaped bottle, holding it to her chest. “Very well…. Then let us share it, here. Right now.” Her eyes slid over to the inquisitive Egyptian, “Fareeha, glasses.”

Fareeha bobbed her head and darted off without a word. Everyone remained mildly puzzled but understood a single concept.

The bottle had sentimental value.

“Lacroix, that bottle is worth upwards of $33,000…Are you sure?”

Hana choked on her punch, Angela gasped, Lena yelped, and Lucio fanned himself. The rest stood there dumbfounded

“Holy shit. Seriously? What is it, Ambrosia?” Jack gruffly quizzed.

“Cognac. Remy Martin Louis XIII.” Ana answered, adding. “They’ve been aged for in oak barrels, some dating back centuries.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a little taste of history.

Fareeha returned with a plate of wine glasses within the minute, distributing them amongst themselves.

“We should…Probably leave.” Hana interjected, grasping her boyfriend’s arm.

Amélie cut them off immediately, the voice firm. Commanding. Perhaps a touch forceful, “No. You stay.”

Duo frozen in place, both mid-stride.

Not up for debate. “You are Lena’s friends, stay.”

They meekly retreated to their spot and exchanged a glance with their friend, Amélie strode forward, unscrewed the golden cap to the mahogany liquid. She circled the group, pouring the liquid with strangely steady hands.

Lena leapt to her feet, as did Angela. Jack followed suit alongside Ana, the apricot, mango and lime blossom aroma intertwined with the atmosphere. It seemed only appropriate to stand on ceremony for the exquisite occasion, she licked her lips at the alcohol. The fruity aroma teased their nostrils, the acknowledged value only served to further their anticipation.

Ana stared into the unfathomable liquid until each glass filled, the cap screw tightened around the bottle. Lena slipped up to the woman and offered a gentle pat followed with a cute grin. She raised her head, throat clearing lightly. “Ahem..Ah..I feel we should each…offer a toast.” She raised her glass, transfixed against the French woman’s as they rounded the circle and slipped between the brit and Lucio, “To good friends.”

Jack Morrison followed, scratching the side of his head with an index finger, “To a great evening.”

Hana Song, she offered hesitantly, “To new friends?” The group affirmed with an encouraging nod, “To new friends.” She beamed proudly.

Dae-hyun Park in a similar position spluttered, eyes darting side to side. “Uh…Ahh…To…To…” fell upon the Swiss and Egyptian women, a grin tugged at the corner of his lips, turning his gaze to the Korean girl to his right. “To a great girlfriend.”

A chuckle emanated from the group. Good save.

“Shit, he stole my one, Angie!” Fareeha whispered audibly to Angela, earning her another famous elbow to the rib.

He couldn’t fight the urge to titter, it escaped. Earning him a glower.

Angela Ziegler scanned the room herself, tapping her chin with an index finger. “To great mothers!” She declared, raising her glass.

“Noooo! Angie, you can’t do this to me too!” They hopped from foot to foot, only hastening as her mother stared at her expectantly. “To….To….Our host!”

Amélie raised the back of her hand up to her mouth, brushing it against her upper lip. A ghost of a smirk graced their features.

Lucio Dos Santos, “Hmm…To great coffee and music!” He offered a cheesy grin.

It circled to the host, Amélie Lacroix, their gaze rested upon the eldest in the room. Before sliding further to the left, chest rising slightly. Resting against on Lena, “To the past.”

An indistinct smile tweaked at Lena’s lips, their furrowed brows uncurling as the answer dawned upon her. With a little aid from the woman to her right, raising her glass. “To the future!” Meeting the honeyed eyes, corner of her eyes crinkling as her smile widened.

Ana blinked at the two, licking her lips a little. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, the solemn afterthoughts faded. Perhaps she had been too effective, “Cheers!”

They all raised their glasses in unison, sipping at the liquid. Ana held off, staring at the brit in surprise.

Lena downed it in one go—hacking and coughing. “Po..POISON, AAKH--!” She clutched her chest, eyes twitching wildly and spasmed.

Amélie caught the falling girl with a roll of irises and shook her head, a warm smile. “Foolish girl…Cognac is meant to be sipped on..”

The elder Egyptian raised her glass up to her lips, eyes locking with Fareeha’s. Offering an eyebrow waggle, “_See Fareeha? That’s how you play matchmaker.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya enjoyed!


	14. Update

Thank you for reading this AU, I truly appreciate the support given throughout.  
  
With that being said, have decided to convert this story into a series about Lena and Widow in this Alternate Universe. Not because I'm tired of pushing up the chapter count but instead I wanted to utilise this opportunity to create a timeline of my writing.

Used to write in the past it feels like I have deteriorated to the point of no return. Everything I read that stems from seems extremely repetitive, thus I have decided not to give up but instead seek this alternative.   
  
Yes, I am very much aware that the story as is, has many gaps. 

Why?

To be frank, it is simply a HUGE time sink. I could elaborate on it further in the series. Honestly if I took my time, it'd require at least up to 24 chapters just for this arc to really end. But that amount of writing, do not have the patience for :<. (Which is currently intended by that might be FAR FAR AWAY)

I kept it short, took quite a few shortcuts in order to progress the story....But part of this decision was due to the fact that I realised this story is getting side-tracked.

Wanted to get to the smut and as I am typing this, realise this may be the reason why quality took a nosedive because I was hurrying to finish this arc. 

The first chapter of this story felt fantastic--Perspective also took a shift from there, I involved too many characters and it required a shift. But that isn't the reason why I've decided to do this, with every recent Fanfic I've posted, I've begun to take more time to focus on quality.

So....For the next part in this series, use it to track my progress in improvement. That being said, I feel compelled to warn readers, it is going to be smut-heavy and fluff. It may or may not be plotless. I can't make any promises.

Kinda rambling on this point.   
  
TLDR: Plot is hard, from chapter 4 onward lack of skill has demoralised. Want to write smut for a bit.  
  
If you like to read just silly and ridiculous shit going on about two individuals of the Overwatch Fandom and maybe some of the other members involved thus far, tune in.

The next piece will be set only slightly ahead from where the series is now. Like a week or so  
  
I may start a new story based one between these two at some point or perhaps rewrite this. 


End file.
